Bethany
by guubear
Summary: "She was masterfully reserved, a trait many mistake as weakness. Restraint is a flavor of command. Holding power within is the foundation of focusing it outward." - Sade, regarding Bethany Hawke.
1. The Blight Took It All

Bethany

Chapter 1: The Blight Took It All

The small clearing edging on the Wilds was still and silent.

Bethany frowned in concentration. Reaching out with her senses, she could feel her sister's magic humming in a protective shell over the wooden dummy, chilling the air and stopping her from igniting the target.

A bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Lighting a fire from afar against a protected target was a lot harder than she thought, especially when she had to do it without her staff.

"Come on, you can do it." Marian said with a lazy grin on her face.

Bethany's fingers twitched into a fist as she visualized her fire smashing through her sister's ice. The result was a loud bang as the dummy tipped backward in three pieces.

Letting out a startled yelp, Bethany tripped and landed on her butt.

Marian wouldn't stop laughing. Bethany joined in. She hadn't hear her sister laugh since Father died.

"You almost got it," Marin said as she offered a hand to help her up. "A little more power, and the whole thing should go up in flame. Are you alright?"

Her sister's warm voice reminded her strongly of Father. Pushing away her stray thought, Bethany got up and asked, "I'm fine. But why did the dummy blow up?"

Marian shrugged. "No idea. It happens when the fire is almost strong enough to overcome the ice." Her face fell. "Father would know."

Bethany bit her lower lip. The urge to cry was back, but she refused to give in to the childish impulse. _Not in front of Marian_ , she told herself. Between Mother and Carver, her sister had had enough to worry about. Mother was a complete wreck. Carver was an angry boy, blindly lashing out at Marian because he didn't know how to contain his own grief. Not that she blamed him. He was only sixteen.

It had scarcely been a week since they scattered their father's ashes, and already Bethany could see their family falling apart, if not for Marian holding them all together.

"Let's go home. I promised Carver I would spar with him today." Marian said.

"Again? But we've been casting all morning already. How you could have the energy to cross blades with him after the workout we had, I'll never understand." Bethany frowned at her sister in concern.

Marian shrugged again. "That's what father would have done."

Bethany had nothing to say to that.

Not that it really mattered, as it turned out.

Try as she might, Marian was never going to fill the space that their father had previously occupied. Carver joined the Lothering town guard not a month after Father's ashes were in the winds. Bethany didn't like it, but she empathized. The youngest Hawke in the family must have felt the need to be the man and play the role of their protector. Unlike herself, who was immeasurably grateful for their older sister's care in their father's absence, her twin was chafing under Marian's shadow.

Marian, Maker bless her forgiving heart, did not let Carver's rebellious streak bother her, and stoically picked up where their father had left off without a word of complaint. The oldest Hawke began taking jobs from the chanter's board to make coin for the family. Most of the time Marian would be out of town, fighting bandits and culling wolves with her trusty mabari hound, Doggo. She would come home, tired and limping and splattered in blood. No amount of begging from either Mother or herself would make her stop.

Bethany knew that it wasn't only jobs posted on the chanter's board that Marian was taking. Her sister must have killed people that weren't simple bandits. She could guarantee there were a few corpses lying in shallow graves in the Wilds that were clad in Templar plates.

That would also explain why Marian had become so scarily good with daggers despite being a mage. Templars were not trained to dodge knives that could slip in the joints of heavy armor.

With her siblings out of the house most of the time, Mother clung to her like a lifeline. In some way, it was astounding how similar they were. Family meant so much to them both, it was mind boggling to Bethany how much Mother must have loved Father to leave it all behind.

Their new lives without Father settled into a different routine. The grief was still there, but it wasn't crushing after some time. Years passed, all was peaceful, boring even, that the most exciting news in town was the presence of a new lay sister in the chantry. According to Carver, Sister Leliana was a beautiful redhead with the voice of a nightingale. After meeting the Sister for the first time in the chantry's meditation room, Bethany found herself agreeing with her brother for once.

Her only other interaction with the Sister was actually not much of an interaction at all. Bethany had passed by elder Mirim's place on an errand and overheard the Sister telling stories to a bunch of enraptured children. She found herself standing there, enthralled, and at the end, clapping along with the young audience. Sister Leliana had looked up and gave her a bright smile that sent her blushing and scurrying away.

Bethany would forever regret taking this idyllic peace for granted.

The summer of her eighteenth year was blistering and uncommonly dry. The minor drought drove hungry wolves out of the Wilds in search of more food. Several bounties had been posted on the chanter's board to cull the wolves, and guards had been patrolling the edge of the town to eliminate those starving beasts that would brave a settlement. Nothing they did seem to be enough to completely deter those animals.

She shouldn't have gone alone. Why did she not wait until Marian was home to go prancing about the woods? Surely skiving off magic practice for a few days would not hurt anyone. A small lapse in judgement was all it took for Bethany's world to come crashing down around her ears.

Crying out in pain, Bethany futilely tried to pry open the metal jaws of the claw trap digging into her ankle, but all she had accomplished was smearing the blood around, the coppery scent hanging heavy in the air.

And then she saw eyes glowing in the trees around her. Of course. The trap was meant for wolves.

Bethany had no choice. She let her magic loose before those starving beasts rip out her throat.

It was too close to town. People saw. Bethany didn't resist when the Templars came. Ser Bryant was kind enough to let her say goodbye to her mother before they tore her from her family forever.

Lake Calenhad was beautiful. So was the Circle Tower. But they were nothing but a gilded cage all the same. Marian would do poorly if she were in her place. This was the reason why Bethany did not resist. For once, she was going to be Marian's protector. Her sister was good with blades. No one would suspect if they didn't look too closely, and Bethany was not going to give them any reasons to.

They put her through the harrowing the very night she arrived at the Tower. Bethany was almost amused by their show of caution. She might be young and foolish, but she was not weak. Her father and her sister had not trained her to be weak. Her magic would serve that which was best in her, not that which was most base.

Bethany passed her harrowing without trouble. Ser Cullen looked offended that an apostate had performed so well, better than most Circle trained apprentices, even. She wondered if he would prefer to cut her down with that shiny sword of his as a matter of principle, demon possessed or not.

On some level, it was a relief to not having to hide. Magic was a part of her. In a sense, she was finally able to be true to herself.

Now a full fledged Enchanter, Bethany was supposed to take on apprentices, young as she was. When asked, she declined the offer, citing her inexperience and youth. Instead, Bethany spent an inordinate amount of time in the Circle's massive library, absorbing all the arcane knowledge like a sponge. Living as an apostate did not come with the privilege of free access to priceless arcane tomes as Circle mages did. Bethany was determined to make the most of her situation.

They assigned her under the supervision of a kindly faced Senior Enchanter, Wynne. Her new mentor was very skilled in creation magic, which she herself had little to no talent for. Nonetheless, Wynne was a patient and dedicated teacher, and she was knowledgeable in many areas other than healing. Her mentor was a poor substitute for her mother, but Bethany was grateful for Wynne's care.

She made friends, too. Mage friends that she could discuss magic with. It was a balm to sooth the ache of being separated from her siblings. Neria was bubbly and cheerful; she reminded her of Carver's not-so-secret girlfriend Peaches. Finn was scatter-brained but frighteningly intelligent. Godwin was goofy and a great laugh, like her best friend Elena back in Lothering. And Daylen was family.

Daylen Amell. The Maker must had a wicked sense of humor. Who thought she would find family again after being hauled off in chains? First cousin, once removed, but still family. Her mother's next few letters were peppered with stories about Daylen's mother, Revka Amell, and about the Amell estate in Kirkwall. Daylen devoured those letters like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

Her cousin reminded her a lot of her father. They looked nothing alike, but they carried themselves with the same air of competence and grace. Father was more stern, but the two of them were equally kind. Some days Bethany would daydream what life would have been like growing up with Daylen as her older brother and having their entire family together. They would have been so happy.

A year crawled by agonizingly slowly. Being locked up in one place put her into perspective how free her previous life was. She prayed to the Maker every day that He would keep her family safe and her sister free from incarceration.

But the uncaring Maker was as generous as He was cruel. What little happiness Bethany had found in the Tower was again stolen from her. Daylen was kind, and his kindness was abused in the worse way possible - betrayal by his best friend. Bethany would never forgive that weasel Jowan. If not for the Grey Warden Duncan, Daylen would have been executed by the Templars for aiding a blood mage.

Daylen's conscription was merely the first stab that would cut her heart to pieces. The next day, Bethany received a tear stained letter from her mother that Carver had volunteered for King Cailan's army at Ostagar to fight the darkspawn. Marian had went with Carver at Mother's behest to keep her reckless little brother safe.

Safe? How was one person going to keep another safe amidst the chaos of the battlefield? If Marian had slipped up and used magic in combat, her free-spirited sister was going to be locked up and doomed to waste away in captivity. What was her mother thinking?! And no one was fooled by the real reason why Carver joined the army. It had nothing to do with serving Ferelden or fighting darkspawn. He wanted the glory, and now Marian was going to pay for it.

The rotten cherry on top of this steaming pile of ill news was that her best friend Elena's entire family was butchered by a crazed Qunari. This murderous savage was quickly apprehended, but it was too little, too late. Bethany wished the monster got what it deserved.

Wynne didn't get the chance to console her in Daylen's absence. She and most of the Senior Enchanters in the Tower were summoned to Ostagar to supplement Cailan's army as well. Mages were always needed to combat the Blight.

Only half of them made it back. Those who were fortunate enough to come back alive were defeated, angry, and frightened. King Cailan's army was lost. The darkspawn had overrun the South Reach. Lothering was in flames. Marian, Carver, Mother, Daylen. Her entire family, gone.

Bethany cried and screamed the whole night, and for once it wasn't because she was plagued by demons. Neira had to stay with her at all times so she wouldn't do anything stupid. Apparently suicide was epidemic in the Tower. It was a known issue that the Templars were perfectly content to leave be.

But Bethany was a Hawke, and a Hawke was not weak. Eventually she managed to pull herself together. Hollow, joyless, and much reduced, yet still alive. A small part of her wished that the Templars had made her Tranquil in the first place so she wouldn't have to feel all this pain now.

Pain and fear. There was so much fear. Godwin had tried to cheer her up by saying that the Tower was the safest place to be during a Blight. How very wrong he was. One day out of the blue, Uldred and his blood mages decided to take over the Tower in a coup for reasons Bethany could not fathom.

The Templars didn't bother distinguishing Uldred's ilks and those who wanted nothing to do with blood magic. Neira. Sweet, witty, harmless Neira was mercilessly cut down for no reason other than a quirk of birth that had marked her as a mage. Wynne had tried to heal her, but the blade had run through Neira's heart. The little elf girl had died confused as to why the Templars would want to hurt their charges.

The rest of the mages barricaded themselves from both Uldred's demons and the Templars alike. From where Bethany stood, there were little differences between those two.

They held on for days. They guarded the doors at all hours and slept in shifts. Food and water was running low, and those with enough proficiency to hold the barriers were almost dead on their feet. A few of them were arguing the merit of jumping out of the windows and swimming to safety when hope arrived.

Daylen was back, and her cousin had brought in the chevaliers. Maybe chevaliers was a strong word. A motley crew was a more apt description. His companions consisted of a handsome blond in heavy plates, a redheaded female archer in leather, a scantily clad woman with startling golden eyes, a sullen Qunari sporting sawed off horn stubs on his head, and a grinning mabari hound painted in kaddis.

Bethany was not ashamed to admit that she did use Daylen's robe to wipe her nose while she sobbed like a baby. Her cousin was magnanimous enough to not make disgusted sounds at her unseemly behavior. Some of his companions were not as gracious. "I thought you were d...dead. I thought you were _all_ dead!"

"Control yourself, girl. 'Tis most undignified." Said the woman with the most exotic eyes Bethany had ever seen. She was stunningly beautiful, although the look of disgust marred the perfect features the Maker had blessed her with.

Bethany reluctantly let go of Daylen. "I thought all the Wardens died in Ostagar." Tears welled up in her eyes. It was impossible to hold herself back once the floodgate was open. "The Templars killed Neira. I don't know where Godwin and Finn are. Marian and Carver were in King Cailan's army. And Mother was all by herself in Lothering… I… I thought the Blight had took you all!"

"Hey, I'm still here. You are not alone." Daylen said, and Bethany desperately wanted to believe him.

"We can talk later, child." Wynne patted her on the shoulder. "We need to find the First Enchanter post haste. Irving is the only one who can stop Ser Greagoir from invoking the Right of Annulment."

"I'm coming, too." Bethany said before Wynne could tell her otherwise. "You can't refuse another friendly staff between you and a horde of demons."

"But…"

"Let the girl come if she wants." The woman with the golden eyes interrupted Daylen's objection. "She does not seem completely hopeless with a staff."

"Um, thanks, I guess?" Bethany wasn't sure if that counted as a compliment. Her eyebrows raised with surprise when she noticed the staff strapped to the stranger's back. An apostate, perhaps? Her clothes looked Chasind.

"Bethany Hawke?" Said the archer, who was inspecting her face intently for some reason.

Bethany frowned at the redhead. She would swear she had seen this shade of red before… "Sister Leliana?!" The chantry Sister was almost unrecognizable in leather armor.

Leliana smiled widely at her. "So it is you. It's been a while." The smile on her face faded abruptly when she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry about Ostagar. And Lothering. I bade Leandra to flee north before I left with the Wardens. She refused. She was waiting for your brother and sister to come home. I'm truly very sorry, Bethany."

Bethany nodded numbly. She had not dared to hold out hope when she first heard of the fate of Lothering. Leliana's confirmation was simply the last nail in the coffin.

While scouring the Tower for survivors, they found Godwin hiding in a closet. Ironic, really, considering he had never been shy about bedding every male with a pulse and then bragging about it in the most inappropriate ways. They didn't find Finn. Instead, they found demons and abominations in the library. Bethany didn't want to know if he had been one of those monsters they had to put down.

They trudged through the demon infested Tower, killing everything in their way, and finally made it to the top floor. Bethany didn't remember much what happened after that. It was so hard to focus, to think. She had been so tired.

And then she found herself sitting on a wolf pelt by the fireplace, leaning her head to her father's knees. Father was humming to himself while daftly carving a block of wood to the shape of a bear. Marian and Mother were reading letters in the kitchen, chatting merrily about the good news they had received from their relatives in Kirkwall. Carver and Daylen were playing cards at the dinner table, the two of them were laughing and teasing each others like brothers.

The warm scent of sandalwood was making her drowsy. Bethany felt her eyelids droop, just as the feeling of contentment loosened the knot in her chest.

Family. This was all she ever wanted. She wanted this moment to last forever before…

Before it was taken away again.

Bethany despaired. The illusion of her perfect happiness wavered for an eyeblink, yet it was enough to break the spell. How many times had she been tempted by demons with this exact same empty promise? Her deepest desire was an impossibility that not even the Maker could grant.

"Bethany?" Another Daylen, not the one sitting at the dinner table, called out. He looked around the fabricated illusion wistfully before taking a tentative step towards her. "Please, Bethany. You need to focus. This is not real."

"I know." Bethany said quietly.

"You know?"

Bethany shrugged. "This is not the first time I'm seeing this in the Fade."

They walked away from her fantasy to face the Sloth demon that was the cause of this cruel make-believe. Bethany especially relished the demon's screams when she set its ugly face on fire.

x-x-x

First Enchanter Irving pledged the Circle's support to aid the Wardens after they saved the mages from the idiotic Right of Annulment. Ser Greagoir didn't volunteer the Templars to the Wardens, but he did allow them to hitch a ride on the Templar's supply ship to hasten their journey to Redcliffe.

Bethany decided she didn't like to travel by boat.

To distract herself from the nauseating journey, she chatted with her travel companions to catch up on what had happened since Ostagar. It was a tale so unbelievable, it had to be true.

"A dragon swoop down and rescued you and my cousin from a swarm of darkspawn." Bethany repeated in disbelief.

"Yup. And then Morrigan and her dear old mother, Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds, healed us back to health. Batty, that one." Alistair confirmed.

Bethany wasn't sure if Alistair was referring to Morrigan or her mother. Likely both. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that a dragon would swoop down and rescue the rest of my family from darkspawn for the second time."

Alistair grimaced at her attempt at humor. "That would be extremely unlikely."

"How about the mabari?" Bethany asked.

"Barkspawn showed up after we left the Wilds. I think he likes Daylen. Or maybe he likes the cheese we feed him." Alistair said, scratching the mabari hound behind its ears.

Bethany shook her head at the name. Barkspawn. Lovely name. Almost as bad as Doggo. She hoped at least her family pet was able to outrun the Blight.

Leliana continued the story. "The Wardens came through Lothering and I decided to join their noble quest to end the Blight. It came to me in a vision - such is the will of the Maker."

Bethany was envious of Leliana's faith. After so much had happened, she no longer believed the Maker had any interest in the mortal realm.

"Bodahn and Sandal joined up when we left Lothering. Safety in numbers and all." Leliana added.

"Enchantment!" Sandal squealed in excitement. Bethany couldn't help but smile indulgently at the simple-minded dwarf boy.

Still, there was a Qunari on the deck that no one seemed to want to explain. Looking at the direction where Sten was sitting with Daylen a conclusion was forming in her mind. Bethany had been thinking about it for a while, and she had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer.

Leliana followed her gaze and answered her unspoken question. "Sten had pledged to aid the Wardens as penance to his crime. We found him in a standing cage by the chantry in Lothering. He had been sentenced to death by the Revered Mother because he…"

"... slaughtered my best friend's family - men, women, children and all. They were simple farmers." Bethany finished Leliana's sentence for her. "I need to... be away from here." She stood up and stalked away, creating as much distance between herself and the Qunari as physically possible while aboard a boat.

The same topic was never brought up again in Bethany's presence.

Redcliffe greeted them in a wave of quiet despair. Arl Teagan looked ready to collapse in relief when he saw the Wardens brought with them a group of well-armed fighters. Bethany only understood his feeling too well.

The stir of the undead could only be attributed to the work of foul magic. The Veil was not torn in the village, so the source of this evil must be coming from the nearby castle. They would need to live through the night before they could move on to the castle to investigate. Sadly, the local militia consisted mostly of dockhands and fishermen. A handful of Redcliffe knights were present but they alone could not hold back the waves of undead. Truth be told, Bethany was not looking forward to nightfall. Regardless what they do, a lot of people were going to get hurt.

After some trials and errors, Bethany concluded that raining fire down on the undead seemed to be the most effective way to destroy the necromantic magic animating the corpses. She had always preferred fire, but by the Maker, the smell was revolting.

With the additional firepower of four mages on their side, the villagers pulled through without suffering too many casualties. Daylen's clever glyph placement made him a master at controlling the battlefield. Wynne's healing magic was invaluable at saving lives. Morrigan's ice and her own fire was a deadly combination that her father would have approved of.

After a short rest, they snuck through the secret passage Arl Teagan had disclosed and ended up in the castle dungeon. In one of the cells, they found the cause of Redcliffe's woe.

Jowan the traitor. The escaped blood mage had freely admitted poisoning Arl Eamon on Teyrn Loghain's order, but denied vehemently at the accusation of summoning the undead. This led to the only unwelcome conclusion that Arl Eamon's only son, Connor, was responsible for the whole mess. Stone Faced, Daylen dragged his former best friend out of the cell in chains and made him fix his own mistake.

An untrained mage child, one who was raised to inherit the responsibility of caring for his father's Arling, had caused the death of so many of his future subjects. Bethany couldn't decide whether she should be more upset with Jowan or Lady Isolde. If Jowan had not poisoned the Arl, Connor wouldn't have been so upset that he made a deal with a demon to keep his father alive. If Arlessa had sought help instead of trying to bury the problem as soon as Connor showed signs of possession, all those deaths could have been avoided.

When Jowan suggested using blood magic to save Connor from possession, and Isolde was going to go along with this insane idea, Bethany finally snapped. "You lazy toad! Must you tout blood magic as the solution for every problem? Use your head, moron!"

Jowan recoiled from her while Daylen raised an eyebrow at her outburst. Bethany had never raised her voice in front of him before. She didn't raise her voice, in general, but she was just so mad! "There are five fully trained mages in this room. Five! And we have a dozen lyrium potions on hand. That's more than enough power to send one person through the Fade to slay Connor's demon. It's indolent fools like you why people don't trust mages."

"Why yes, tell him what you _really_ think." Alistair added in a low drawl.

Bethany thought she had been quite restrained. If she had said _exactly_ what she thought of him, her mother would have come down from the Maker's side to wash out her mouth.

What Jowan had offered was a life of drawn out torture for Conner; hardly the prize worth sacrificing Isolde for. Possession by demons left an open wound in the boy's soul that would never heal. He was forever a bleeding lamb surrounded by hungry wolves. Every time he went to sleep, he risked waking up an abomination even more so than normal mages would. Remembering how many small statured abominations they had to put down in the Tower, Bethany privately wondered if it would be kinder to end the boy's suffering now.

Morrigan, never one to pull punches, pointed out the hypocrisy in cool detachment. "If the boy weren't the son of an Arl, we would've cut him down like we do to all possessed mages and be done with it."

Her brutal honesty made most people in the room squirm uncomfortably. Morrigan was right, and they couldn't fault her logic because it was apparent she didn't say it out of malice.

Alistair and Leliana both blanched at the witch's suggestion.

"But he is only a child! We can't kill him." Alistair was aghast.

"How many children did we put down in the Tower not two sundowns ago?" Morrigan retorted impatiently.

Alistair looked positively ill. It seemed the dots connected just now. Bethany looked on the Warden in pity.

"No,I forbid it! You will not touch my son!" Isolde was hysterical, understandably so. Her slightly crazed eyes fixed on Morrigan as she begged piteously. "You are a woman also. Were you a mother, will you not move mountains to save your child? Please, there has to be another way."

Morrigan curled her lips in distaste, but she remained silent.

"Daylen, I… can't decide. I will leave it up to you." Alistair said.

Daylen volunteered to be sent into the Fade, without using any blood magic. Her cousin was a good man. Bethany was hardly surprised by his decision.

The ritual lasted the entire afternoon. When Daylen finally came back, tired but triumphant, Bethany was ready to fall on her face in exhaustion. They rested two more days at the castle until all the mages were able to walk upright without tripping over themselves. Meanwhile, Connor was sent to the Tower by Alistair and an escort of grim faced knights on Arl Teagan's order. Although unsatisfied by the compromise, the Arlessa dared not to protest her son's treatment.

Jowan stayed in the dungeon, where traitors belonged.

Isolde's inane rambling about finding the mystical Andraste's sacred ashes to cure the comatose Arl Eamon sailed right by Bethany's head. She could just imagine the scathing remark Marian would have made to the Arlessa's leave of common sense. _While we're at it, would you like us to fetch you a baby griffon as a pet? Or would you prefer a couple dragons to pull your carriage?_

The Wardens agreed to pay a visit to Brother Genitivi in Denerim, 'though it was obvious they didn't think anything would come of it. Relic hunting could wait, gathering allies to fight the Blight couldn't. After a short debate, the Wardens decided that their next stop would be the Brecilian Forest where several Dalish clans roamed.

This meant passing through the ruin of Lothering on the way.

Bethany felt her heart dropped into her stomach.

x-x-x

Bethany's unease was plain for all to see. Her imagination tormented both her waking hours and her dreams. Lothering had been her home since she was ten. She couldn't decide if she was more afraid to find something or nothing when she visited her childhood home again.

Leliana was similarly affected, albeit to a lesser degree. She had also lost her home when the darkspawn overran Lothering, so she was the one who best understood Bethany's pain. The Sister went out of her way to distract her from her morbid thoughts by telling her stories; legends, folk lores, and fantastic tales that were surely made up on the fly. Bethany was grateful for Leliana's compassion and companionship. It was infinitely better to be lost in Leliana's many stories, rather than inside her head.

Halfway to Lothering, the party was set upon by assassins courtesy of Loghain. Would this menace ever leave the Wardens alone to do their duty? Dealing with the Blight should take priority over any other petty squabble. Despite the differences in number, they soundly thrashed their attackers and captured the leader of the ambush for interrogation. Morrigan kept muttering on about poisoned food after Daylen had spared the assassin's life and let the former Crow tag along their merry band of misfits.

The smooth-talking Antivan was unlike anyone Bethany had met before. If she had thought Godwin was bad, Zevran was ten times worse. Bethany could never forget the look on Wynne's face when the elf commented on her marvelous, magical bosom.

Lothering was a ghost town. The darkspawn horde had not only killed everything in their path, the taint they carried consumed everything they touched. The corruption had seeped into the land, fouling the very soil so that nothing would grow for decades to come. Fire had also broken out at some point, leaving nothing flammable behind. All that remained of this town were withered crops, ashes, charred stone, and the ever present stench of the taint.

Bethany's home was empty. Perhaps her mother had packed all her belongings before she fled, perhaps looters had cleaned the place out instead. It was impossible to tell. Mercifully, there were no bodies. In a dark corner of her mind, Bethany wondered if the darkspawn had consumed those, too.

That night at camp, Leliana held her and sang to her while Bethany silently cried herself to sleep. The next morning, Bethany couldn't meet the Sister's ocean blue eyes without blushing furiously. Leliana had been so supportive and understanding. Bethany knew better than to impose her childish, inappropriate crush on a member of the clergy, so she pulled back to a polite distance. Instead, she sought out Wynne and prompted the Senior Enchanter to teach her more on creation magic, a branch which Bethany had little talent of. After a week of slow progress, Bethany succeeded in healing a papercut for the first time.

Academic failure aside, the change of scenery had served to improve Bethany's mood. The Brecilian Forest was teeming with so much life, it was a welcome change after the bleak scene in Lothering. Curiously, the Veil was thin in this land. Wild magic permeated the air they breathed, energizing and disorienting at the same time. They wandered aimlessly for a solid week before they finally stumbled upon a score of irate Dalish hunters who were ready to turn them all into pincushions for the crime of trespassing. Announcing themselves as the Wardens had lessened the hostility somewhat, but barely just.

Bethany had never met a proper Dalish before, and she didn't know what to make of them. The only thing she was sure of was that they held a dim view of anyone who was not also Dalish. Their aggression towards humans was understandable, given their history, but she couldn't quite grasp their contempt towards city elves.

The Dalish were an odd people, Bethany thought, and she idly wondered whether they would get along well with the dwarves or not. Both races seemed to glorify their past while living their lives as traditions dictated. Too bad Bodahn and Sandal had gone on ahead to Denerim and not here with them to meet the Dalish. It would have been fascinating to see them interact.

Zathrian, the Keeper of the clan, was a powerful mage who was rumored to have lived for hundreds of years. He was quick enough to acknowledge the treaty, yet he was reluctant to offer meaningful aid. The Dalish would have gladly help the Wardens, if only they were in a position to do so, the Keeper had informed them with regret.

Bethany had a funny feeling that this wouldn't be the last time they were given such an excuse.

They were tasked to slay the source of the curse, the leader of the werewolf pack Witherfang, so the Keeper could use the beast's heart to cure afflicted Dalish of lycanthropy. If Marian were here, she would have asked if Andraste's sacred ashes would have worked better.

It sounded like a wild goose chase. Nonetheless, they agreed to help only because there was no other options. They could have tried to find other clans in the forest, but it would have taken too long. The Dalish were nomadic, they were told, quite gleefully she might add, that a few clans had already fled Ferelden at the first sign of the Blight. If they wanted Dalish arms to fight the darkspawn, they had no choice but to venture deeper into the haunted forest in search of more werewolves. Oh, and by the way, try not to get bitten.

Wonderful.

On the plus side, while they were trekking deeper into the forest, Bethany discovered that Morrigan could turn into a bird. A raven, to be precise. The witch would scout ahead without alerting the wildlife inhabiting the forest - a very useful skill to have. Bethany was sorely tempted to ask Morrigan to teach her to be a shapeshifter, but so far she had not worked up the courage to speak to the witch at all. Carver was right to call her a chantry mouse. Marian would have been pestering Morrigan to show her how to shapeshift into a dragon by now.

"You have been staring at Morrigan for a while, cousin." Daylen's voice jolted her out of her daydream. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Bethany thought about it for a moment. "Where do you think the masses go when she turns into a bird? I would think she is light as a bird when she assumes the shape of a bird. If she were to retain her weight as a human, she would fall out of the sky. For that matter, what happen to her clothes when she shifts?"

Daylen stared blankly at her before he cracked up in laughter.

Bethany was a little offended by his reaction.

"You know, I can ask her for you."

"Would you?" Bethany asked, eyes shining at the prospect of flying as a real hawk.

"Of course."

Daylen kept his promise and somehow convinced Morrigan to share her knowledge with Bethany. That night at camp, Bethany sat with the apostate by the fire and began her study in the lost art of shapeshifting.

Morrigan was very blunt, but she wasn't nearly as prickly as she acted around Alistair. She was also a surprisingly good teacher. Bethany wouldn't say that in front of Wynne, ever, she wasn't stupid. The witch's approach to magic theory was refreshingly different from what was taught in the Circle. By the third night, Bethany was already able to discern the internal flow of lifeforce between different animals. Wynne was a little miffed to find her pupil getting better result learning hedge magic from an apostate as supposed to learning the noble healing art from a distinguished senior Circle mage.

Speaking of Wynne, they found her first apprentice Aneirin in the forest by sheer coincidence. Unfortunately, there were more than simple apostates hiding in the haunted forest. The mad hermit they ran into turned out to be a deranged maleficar.

Bethany had never been the target of such foul blood magic before, so she no idea what to expect when the maleficar raised his bloody hand and waved it at her face. She could do nothing but scream in agony as the mad man took control of her blood and set it on fire inside her veins.

She woke to many blurry faces looking down on her, each wearing similar anxious expression. Wynne's gentle healing magic tingled around her head, making her want to sneeze.

"Stay still. You have a concussion. Your skull is cracked, and you're bleeding from your ears." Leliana frowned worriedly while using a wet rag to clean the blood off her face.

"What happened?" Bethany asked, her speech was slightly slurred, and she had to hurriedly swallowed back a mouthful of saliva to keep from throwing up.

Morrigan answered in a clipping tone. "Blood control. He could have done much worse than causing pain, if his blood had touched you."

Bethany was afraid to ask what "much worse" would have entailed.

She needn't ask. Morrigan offered that information freely. "The blood mage could have robbed you of your will, making you a slave to do his bidding. You resisted his effort, so he tried to destroy your mind instead. The elf slashed his throat before he could crush your brain."

A shudder rolled down her spine. Bethany convulsed and threw up on Leliana's lap before she passed out again.

When she finally came to, she was alone in the tent the women (less Morrigan) shared. There were voices outside. It was Leliana monologuing to the mabari. Bethany laughed out loud when Leliana spoke of kicking an ankle biter toy dog by mistake, thinking it was a diseased rat.

"Bethany?" Leliana poked her head in to check on her. "How are you feeling?"

The memory of being violently sick all over Leliana's lap rushed back in a tide of shame. Bethany wished the ground would open up beneath her feet and save her from having to face Leliana ever again. "I feel fine now. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to… you know."

Leliana chuckled in good humor. "There is nothing to apologize for. I took no offense. You've given us quite the fright, however. Daylen was besides himself. Wynne had to remind him several times the efficiency of magical healing."

"How long was I out?"

"A couple hours. I took down a buck while you were resting. We will eat well tonight."

The next day, Bethany picked Wynne's brain for ways of fighting off blood magic. The answers she got was more than a little disappointing. Since blood magic was forbidden by the chantry, any studies regarding this branch of magic was non-existent within the Circle. The only wisdom Wynne could impart on this regard was to stay very far away from the maleficarum and/or freeze the bad mages before they could take out a knife.

Morrigan looked decidedly unimpressed by Wynne's answers. This quickly spiraled into a heated argument that required Daylen to mediate. Bethany felt sorry for bringing this topic up in the first place, and was determined to avoid all talks of the Trifecta of Oppression (the Chantry, the Circle, and the Templar Order - Morrigan's words) for the foreseeable future.

Meanwhile, the party was continuously harassed by werewolves, regular wolves, blighted wolves, giant spiders, and homicidal trees. Both the local fauna and flora were doing a fine job being a complete menace. No wonder the xenophobic Dalish picked this charming place as their home.

It became apparent that not all was as it seemed when one of the supposedly mindless savage werewolves spoke, maybe not eloquently, but intelligently. If the Keeper could mislead them about the nature of the beasts, what else could he have lied about?

They disregarded the talking werewolf's warning to keep away and tracked them even deeper into the woods. The elven ruin where the werewolves had made their nest was deep in the heart of the forest. Here the trees were so tall, they only had daylight for about four hours around noon. Travelling by mage fire became a necessity. After spending a few days in the dark, Bethany grew paranoid. Something was always out there, watching. It put her on edge, and made sleeping almost impossible despite how tired she was. She wasn't the only person feeling this way.

The Veil inside the ruin was torn from past bloodshed. Restless spirits and the undead stirred as they hungered for more death. Their progress was further hampered by collapsed corridors and ancient traps. One upside was that there was a reason this place had been heavily defended. The elven ruin was a treasure trove of both gold and knowledge.

In one of the small libraries, Daylen found a phylactery that held the memory of an ancient elven mage who had been trapped inside this device for centuries. In exchange for its final release from this wretched half life, it offered him the secret of arcane warrior for his service. Her cousin promised to share what he was taught later, after all the information had settled in his brain.

Deep inside the lair, a talking werewolf stopped them and asked for parley on behalf of their leader.

The Lady of the Forest was a bound forest spirit in female form. The spirit oozed the same wild magic as the very air they breathed. To no one's surprise, her side of the story painted an entirely different picture than the story Zathrian had told. At this point, Bethany simply wanted to put her hands on the Keeper's shoulders and shake him until the truth came out of his lying mouth.

Daylen was likewise unimpressed by Zathrian's deception. He promised the Lady to bring the Keeper to her in order to free all the werewolves of the curse.

They didn't have to spend another two weeks trudging back to the Dalish camp. Zathrian had never trusted the Wardens to do his dirty work. Instead, he had come to the ruin to personally ensure the task would be carried out to his specification.

It seemed inevitable that the Keeper would turn on them when the negotiation broke down. They had to literally beat some sense into the old elf before he resigned to do the right thing. Bethany didn't know what she was expecting, but she was a stuttering mess when there was suddenly a roomful of naked people standing very close to her. She had to keep her eyes fixed on the tip of her boots to avoid getting an eyeful.

Zevran seized the opportunity to make fun of her relentlessly until Leliana shoo'd him away. The elf changed his target and went to bother Alistair instead.

Without werewolves ambushing them three times a day, the journey back only took half as long. One good thing that came of this unpleasant frolic in the woods was that Bethany had successfully shapeshifted into a wolf. There were no hawks in this forest, and wolves were abundant, so that was the animal she was able to study up close. Morrigan was very pleased with her progress, and the witch made sure to rub that in Wynne's face.

As the new Keeper, Lanaya thanked them on the clan's behalf and promised to provide the Wardens with Dalish support to fight the Blight. The much subdued woman also confessed quietly that she had long suspected Zathrian's involvement, but was unwilling to confront him.

Not wanting to overstay their welcome, they rested long enough to refill their supplies before moving on to their next stop, Denerim.

x-x-x

The Imperial Highway leading to the capital city was filled with refugees fleeing the Blight. Pulling a cloak over their armors and arms was enough to blend in with all the other weary, travel-worn peasants. They rendezvoused with Bodahn and Sandal at a campsite roughly an hour west from Denerim's main gate, where they had been waiting for them for a while.

"We've resupplied in Denerim while waiting for you folks. We've got news, too. Ill news, I'm afraid." Bodahn said.

Teryn Loghain, now Regent of the Crown of Ferelden, had placed the entire blame of the defeat in Ostagar on the Grey Wardens' heads. All Grey Wardens were to be arrested on sight for the crime of treason. While Denerim was flooded with refugees, the crime rate soared. Civil unrest afflicted the capital city as much as the Blight did. While gangs ran rampant on the streets in broad daylight, the alienage had to be quarantined because of an outbreak of plague brought on by the influx of poor peasants sick with the taint.

Bethany had been to Denerim once before when she was six, or seven. Her family were living in Amaranthine at the time, and they visited the Denerim market one summer. She remembered being fascinated by the massive pyre set in front of the chantry that symbolize Andraste's sacrifice at the night of All Soul's day. Mother had told her stories about how people in the Free Marches would dress up as spirits and parade the streets at night.

"We will need to split up to not attract as much attention." Daylen said.

Daylen took Wynne, Zevran, and the Qunari with him. His group would seek out Brother Genitivi, if not to locate this mystical relic with miraculous healing power, at least to find out where all the missing Redcliffe knights went.

Leliana, herself, and the dog went with Alistair. Their job was to poke around the city and gather information while they waited. The two groups would then converge at a safe house Zevran had arranged through Bodhan, an inn called the Pearl, and then they would decide what to do next depending on the information they gathered.

Morrigan had sniffed disdainfully before stalking back to her tent. She would rather stay with the dwarves in the woods than put up with the unwashed masses in an overcrowded city.

The general mood in the city was a nervous thrum of anxiety mixed in with despair. With the torrent of bad news coming from the south, most people were hard pressed to believe Teyrn Loghain's claim that this was not a real Blight. The chantry was overwhelmed by funeral services, and the supposedly comforting chants from the chanters rang hollow and trite. They spent their daylight combing through the markets and talking to vendors. By sundown, they arrived at the Pearl and almost turned around and walked away as soon as they stepped past the threshold.

The Pearl was not an inn. It was, technically, a place where people slept, as Zevran had put it. Bethany suspected that very little actual sleep ever happened in this place, judging by the debaucherous scene in the drinking hall and the odd noises and musty scents wafting down from upstairs. This was the downside of being a shapeshifter. Some traits of her wolf form had bled over, granting her slightly keener senses even while she had not shifted. She suddenly had a deep sympathy for Morrigan, who had mastered a wide range of shapes. This would explain a great deal of her disdain for people in general, and her preference to stay aloof.

Bethany found herself slouching and shrinking behind her companions to avoid being leered at. What in Andraste's name was Zevran thinking? A brothel might be grand for the lecherous elf, it definitely didn't feel like a safe place for her!

Alistair, Maker bless him, positioned his armor-clad bulk in front of her to block out most of the impolite stares. Barkspawn stood behind her, growling at hands straying too close to her rear. Next to her, Leliana was muttering darkly to herself in rapid Orlasian. Even from her limited understanding to the language, Bethany could tell Zevran was in big trouble.

"There they are. I'm so going to kick the elf's scrawny ass." Alistair grumbled.

In a relatively quiet corner of the drinking hall, Daylen was playing cards against a dusky skinned woman. While Sten was guarding the table like an imposing statue, Zevran was sipping wine with a lazy grin on his face. Wynne, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly with an aura of severe disapproval cloaked over her very being.

Daylen put his cards down on top of the spread of silver coins and smiled brightly at the woman. "I believe this is my win, Captain Isabela."

The woman tossed her head back and laughed. "Oh, well played. A deal is a deal. I will not renage."

Leliana interrupted. "You," she grabbed Zevran by the edge of his leather pauldrons and pulled him up from his seat. "You are an inconsiderate ass."

"Well, that's not news." Isabela chirped up, grinning at Zevran's misfortune.

"Whoa, Leliana. What have I done to offend this time?"

Leliana send a quick glance at Bethany's direction before she narrowed her eyes at the elf. "I see you've forgotten we have… a very young woman with us. This place is entirely inappropriate!"

Zevran put his hands up in surrender. "Paz. I meant no harm."

Wynne added in an arctic tone, "this establishment is inappropriate even for an old woman!"

Zevran gave the Senior Enchanter a wounded look. "My darling Wynne, you are nowhere near as old as you pretend to be. Why, your bosom is still as sweet as a ripen peach."

Wynne's face twitched. Bethany was a little worried her mentor might be having a stroke right now. "I'm not your darling. And for the last time, stop… talking… about… my… bosom."

"Of course." Zevran agreed amiably. "Where are my manners. This lovely lady is Isabela, Captain of the Siren's Call, Queen of the Eastern Seas, and also the sharpest blade in Llomerryn. Isabela, everyone. Everyone, Isabela. Now could you please let me go, dear bard?"

Leliana dropped him back to his seat.

Isabela's hooded eyes slowly swept over the newcomers, a dangerous smirk curved at the corner of her full lips. "My, my. You travel with interesting people, Zev. Tell me, handsome Warden. Is what they say about Warden stamina true? Your Warden brother wouldn't answer when I asked."

Alistair's face turned a shade of alarming red that was almost purple.

"Aww, how precious. Looks like we have a blushing virgin on our hand. Let me know when you want to find an answer to my questions. We can find out together."

Leliana's voice was low and dangerous. "How did you know they're Wardens?"

Isabela winked at her. "I have my ways. You should thank Zev, by the way. There are many unsavory kinds looking for your friends. The Pearl is known for their discretion. You are safe here. I couldn't say the same elsewhere. Besides, I heard there are Crows about in the city. You can deal with the problems while they're still manageable, or you can flee. It's your choice. Either way, better tread carefully."

Zevran looked a little pale at the information. Leliana looked taken aback.

"I… Thank you. That is very generous of you, Captain." Leliana said.

"I know. You should thank me, personally, and repeatedly." Isabela said, giving Leliana a languid once over while licking her lips.

Bethany felt her face erupted in a mad blush at the suggestion. The thought of the chantry Sister being propositioned by the pirate was just… just…

While Bethany was freaking out, Leliana seemed completely unfazed by Isabela's antics. "I'm sure Zevran here will convey his gratitude to you to the best of his ability." She said in a dry tone.

Isabela shrugged. "Why not both? Men are good for only one thing. Women are good for six."

Bethany couldn't suppress her outburst. "Six? Which six?"

"That's quite enough!" Wynne sent a dirty look at the Captain.

Leliana made a distressed noise and tugged Bethany away. "Ignore her. There is no need for a proper young lady like you to find out for many, _many_ years to come."

Bethany had wanted to protest that she was nineteen, which made her far from a child, that plenty of women her age were married with multiple children on the way already. Sadly, she knew better than to argue when she was obviously the youngest in the group. It was completely unfair. Leliana herself couldn't be more than a couple years older than her anyway.

Blowing a kiss farewell, Isabela sauntered upstairs with Zevran in tow. They probably wouldn't come out of their room until the next morning.

Bethany wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about what they'd be doing in there.

"What of the Brother?" Determined to ignore the byplay as Bethany did, Alistair asked and sat down on the chair Zevran had previously occupied.

Daylen shook his head. "Brother Genitivi was not home, but I've got his research notes." He lowered his voice. "There are now two corpses left in his house. There might really be something to the fabled ashes."

"Let's hope it's real, otherwise I'm all out of ideas. If Arl Eamon doesn't wake up soon, we will have no one to stop the civil war. Ferelden will tear itself apart before the Blight could finish the job." Alistair said.

With Loghain in control of the Crown, his prohibitive policy would prevent Grey Wardens in other countries from coming to help end the Blight in Ferelden. In other words, to end the Blight, they must remove Loghain first; to remove Loghain, they must enlist the most powerful noble's help. With the Couslands massacred by Arl Howe and thus out of the picture, Arl Eamon was their best choice. And to enlist Arl Eamon's help, they must find the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, a mythical relic that most sane people believed only existed in stories.

The Fourth Blight lasted twelve years and nearly destroyed Antiva, Rivain, the Free Marches, and Anderfel. Bethany didn't want to contemplate what sorry state Ferelden would be in by the end of this Blight.

Morrigan was frostier than usual when they returned to camp the next day because they made her wait longer than was strictly necessary. Bethany watched the way her cousin talked to the prickly witch and the imagery of him petting a temperamental cat overlapped. She had to quickly look away to stop herself from gawking wide-eyed at the pair. Wow. Her cousin was smitten, and it seemed Morrigan was not entirely unaffected.

Smiling to herself, Bethany wondered if the others had noticed too.

"She is beautiful, no? I could see the appeal. I'm afraid the witch will only break his heart at the end." Leliana said quietly and sat down next to her by the fire.

Bethany tilted her head to study the Sister. "Do you like Daylen?"

Leliana smiled, looking at her a little oddly. "Of course. He is a good man, a good friend, and a competent leader. He deserves better than that witch."

"Morrigan is not so bad."

Leliana hummed, the dubious expression on her face was clear enough to convey her disagreement.

After dinner, the party gathered to discuss their next destination.

If they were to follow up on the clues left in Brother Genitivi's house, they would need to go to a small town call Haven, where the Temple of the Sacred Ashes was supposedly located. Bethany sighed in dismay when she saw the map marking out the little town in the middle of Frostback Mountains. It would take them at least a solid month to get there.

The other choice was to head to Orzammar and rally the dwarves to fight the Blight. While Alistair preferred to pursue the Ashes to heal the Arl as soon as possible, everyone else would rather go visit the dwarven kingdom underground than to chase legend. Regardless, both Orzammar and Haven were on the far west end of Ferelden. The only difference was whether to take the North Road or the West Road out of Denerim.

To no one's surprise, Alistair was overruled. With Orzammar in mind, they marched on.

Despite the long journey ahead, Bethany could not bring herself to complain. Having to walk all day was still a thousand times better than being imprisoned in the Tower. Besides, she was getting plenty of practice shapeshifting as a wolf. She made a better scout than the mabari simply because she was able to speak. Between Morrigan and her, they were always able to find a source of running water close by to set camp most night.

Sadly, Bethany was unable to find any hawks for her to study. There were plenty of ravens though. Morrigan had informed her that studying birds in general would be helpful in advancing her skill, implying that the ability to fly didn't necessarily come with the form. Not too enthused by the prospect of falling out of the sky, Bethany set out to study birds in earnest.

After many days of squinting at random birds in the sky, Bethany was presented with a pair of elbow length leather gloves along with a tethered red-crested raven one night at camp.

"I've fed it some liver and a drop of blood lotus extract. It is docile, but take care to avoid its beak and claws. I will teach you how to train it." Leliana said, showing her how to handle the bird correctly.

Bethany was rendered speechless by the unexpected gift.

Leliana saw the question in her eyes, so she answered with a faint smile. "Orlesian nobles have too much time on their hand. Falconry is but one of many such self-entertaining indulgences. Ravens are intelligent and discreet, thereby making them excellent messengers. A hunting falcon can impress, but a messenger raven has the power to change the balance of the Game."

Bethany didn't know what else to do but profess her thanks profusely. Leliana's thoughtfulness and generosity only served to make it harder to get over her hopeless crush.

"Does it have a name?" Bethany asked.

"It is yours now. That privilege belongs to you."

Bethany name it Crookytail, after the griffon mount of the elven Warden Garahel, who had slain the Archdemon in the previous Blight. Both Daylen and Alistair heartily approved.

x-x-x

A/N: To my Mass Effect fic readers, I must apologize for getting sidetracked. Please understand that it's impossible to stop obsessing when a story is trying to be written. About this fic - the pacing is set to be really, really fast for a reason. One playthrough of Origins took me 70 hours, nonetheless, the storyline of Origins is simple; an unlikely/reluctant hero is given an epic quest to raise an army and save the world from a great evil. The hero wins. The end. This is why I don't plan on getting into the details like I did for the Mass Effect fic. Those who have not played the games before will probably be very confused.


	2. To Orzammar?

Chapter 2: To Orzammar?

Their plan to go to Orzammar was derailed when they ran into a guy named Levi Dryden, who claimed to be Duncan's friend. Having owed Duncan his life, Daylen was compelled to honor the deal made by the man who saved him from Templar sword, much to Alistair's delight. Soldier's Peak was close to Highever, only a few days away from their planned route, and they had hoped the detour would be fruitful. The old Warden stronghold might hold gold and other supplies that would better equip the party.

Soldier's Peak turned out to be a giant tomb. All the mages winced when they felt the tear in the Veil. And everyone knew by now what a torn Veil meant: demons and undead.

"Have they no decency? Why didn't anyone clean up the bodies?" Alistair asked, appalled by the disrespect shown to the dead Wardens.

"They were thought to be traitors. No one cared what happened to them." Leliana said flatly.

Bethany could tell that the unspoken part was that they might very well suffer the same fate if they failed. "I'm sorry, but the Veil is torn, and with all the bodies here…"

Alistair grimaced and looked at Daylen. Her cousin nodded.

Bethany began casting. A moment later, fire ran down from above and blasted apart the dusty bodies, turning bones to ashes before the corpses could rise.

"Your fire is getting stronger." Wynne said, smiling proudly at her.

"More are coming." Morrigan interrupted, just as claws made of lava shot out of the ground all around them.

Her ice was stronger too. It didn't come as naturally as fire did, but she was able to command it well enough in combat. Bethany whipped her staff around and slammed its end against the flagstone, freezing a rage demon in a solid block of ice before Sten shattered it in a vicious sweep.

Something very wrong had happened here, Bethany reflected. The last time she had seen this many demons and undead in one place was at Redcliffe. Here, echoes of the past bled through the Fade and haunted the fortress like ghosts. Even the non-mages in the group could feel the wrongness of this place.

As to be expected, there were many more undead and demons waiting for them inside the fortress. It was grueling work, calling down fire continuously. She had to fall back and let others pick up her slack several times. Wynne was mostly a healer so her arsenal of offensive spells was limited, and Daylen's glyphs made him a better support rather than damage dealing. Morrigan, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of destruction.

Funny how the apostate in the group was better at combat magic than all the Circle mages. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Mages in the Tower were encouraged to pick up gentler branches, such as healing and alchemy. There was a reason why she was dumped on Wynne's lap despite her ineptitude on creation magic. Since she was harrowed and thus cannot be made a Tranquil, she had to be tamed in other ways.

Bethany felt a sudden pang of yearning for Marian to be here so she could find out if her sister was stronger than Morrigan. They would have gotten along so well, both sharp-toned and wickedly smart.

On the second floor, they found Levi's grandmother many times over, the infamous Warden-Commander Sophia Dryden. Or more accurately, a demon possessing the long dead body of the woman. To say Levi was distraught to see this desecration of his ancestor was an understatement. The demon asked what all demons wanted - to freely roam the mortal world and feast to its heart's content. Daylen chopped off her head before she was done talking.

Bethany reminded herself to ask Daylen to teach her arcane warrior spells when he had time. The ability to wield sword and wear heavy armor looked useful. Surely ancient elven magic could not be as difficult as healing.

If they'd thought a demon possessed Warden-Commander was the strangest thing they could find in this place, they were wrong. Avernus, the blood mage who had sundered the Veil to summon demons two hundred years ago, was still alive. He had achieve this unnatural life span and delayed his Calling by experimenting on other Wardens.

Alistair had wanted to execute the blood mage on the spot, but Avernus had scoffed and asked him what was more important; justice or to mend the Veil? The question was enough to stay Alistair's hand.

The hair at the back of Bethany's neck raised as Avernus chanted at the summoning circles to initiate the ritual. Waves of shades and demons frantically pressed through the tear to stop the gap from closing. They barely had enough time to breathe under the continuous onslaught. She was already winded when a desire demon sent out a shockwave, sending everyone flying.

Bethany crashed into a wall. Stunned, she was defenseless when a shade leapt over and viciously slashed at her face. She tried to raise her staff to block the attack, but the first strike ripped her weapon out of her hands. The second strike broke her right arm, and the third strike landed on her left side in an explosion of pain. After that, darkness.

When she woke up again, it was to the sound of two people having a whispered argument nearby. Daylen and Alistair were debating whether they should let Avernus live after committing so many atrocities.

"We weren't told any Grey Warden secrets other than the joining. Maker, we don't even know how to prepare the damn potion for the joining. It's just the two of us clueless fools, floundering in ignorance. How are we supposed to kill the Archdemon if we don't know what being a Grey Warden means? Avernus is more useful to us alive than dead." Daylen said. His voice was quiet but clear.

"But he is evil. The things he's done… Daylen, can you honestly say you trust him?" Alistair asked.

"I trust that he is a Grey Warden to the core, that he wants to end the Blight as much as we do. If it means he has to follow our lead, he will do that."

Alistair sighed. "Fine. You've convinced me. Avernus can live. I hope I don't live to regret this decision."

"Exactly my thought. Now let's go have a long talk with him."

Bethany looked around the dim room and saw Zevran sleeping on a bedroll not far away. His left arm was tightly wrapped and secured in a sling. She struggled to sit up from her own bedroll but groaned in pain when her weight shifted.

"Don't move so much. Wynne said your ribs would be tender for a while." Leliana's voice came from behind her. Bethany turned her head and saw the Sister sitting in a chair in the dark corner of the room. Leliana was out of her armor, white bandages were peeking underneath the loose tunic she usually wore to sleep.

"Are you hurt?" Bethany asked.

"Broken collarbone. The desire demon knocked Zevran back and he slammed right into me. Broke his arm, my collarbone, and my bow." Leliana shook her head with a pout. "I liked my bow."

"We will find you a new one."

"It won't be a Dalish ironbark. Wolf-Killer had an amazing range, better than the one I've been using since Redcliffe." Leliana sighed, looking a little sad. "I've only had it for a month, tops."

"You named your bow Wolf-Killer?" Bethany chuckled.

Leliana grinned. "We were there to kill werewolves, no? Werewolf-Killer doesn't roll off the tongue."

"No, it really doesn't." Bethany smiled and closed her eyes. She was still tired, but the dull throbbing pain around her chest was keeping her awake. After a while, she gave up and opened her eyes again. "I heard Daylen and Alistair talking earlier. They sounded well enough. How are the others?"

"Wynne and Morrigan are sleeping next door. They were drained after patching us up. Sten is helping Levi build a pyre outside. There are a lot of bodies to burn. I don't know where Barkspawn is. Chasing rabbits, I guess." Leliana paused for a long moment before she spoke again. "Bethany, I think you need to talk to Sten."

"What? No! Why?" Bethany stared at her, not sure why the topic had suddenly changed.

"Because you've been avoiding him this whole time, and it's been months. Dislike him all you want, he is still our comrade in arms. He is trying to make up for his past mistakes. You need to give him a chance."

Bethany pursed her lips in distaste. "I can't, not after what he has done. A cold-blooded murderer like him doesn't deserve a second chance. I can never trust him."

"What about Zevran? He literally killed people for a living. You seem to trust him well enough."

Bethany frowned at her. She didn't like to see the way Leliana curled in on herself. "He is different. He was raised to be a tool since boyhood, he didn't choose to be a killer."

Leliana looked stricken by her reply. "I see. That means you don't think I deserve a second chance either."

Bethany blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I was before I joined the chantry."

"Yes? You were a bard. You sang in taverns and told stories."

Leliana swore. "Sweet Andraste! You didn't know."

Bethany was now not only very confused, but also alarmed. "Knew what?"

"I was not just a bard. I was an _Orlesian_ bard. I was a spy, Bethany. I lied, I cheated, I stole, I seduced, and yes, I killed. All because I could, _because it was fun_. "

Bethany's jaw dropped in disbelief. What Leliana had just confessed was the antithesis of what she knew of the chantry Sister.

Leliana wasn't done. "Sten killed your friend because he lost control. I made my targets believe I was their friend, their lover, before I stab them in the back with a smile on my face. Tell me, which one is worse?"

Bethany had no answer for her.

"If you don't think Sten deserves a second chance, then someone like me most certainly wouldn't." Leliana said in a voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper.

"That's not…"

"It's fine." Leliana stood up from the chair she had been sitting in. "I understand. You don't have to say anything."

Bethany watched her walked away.

"Ah, you've really made a mess of things, yes?" Zevran suddenly spoke. It was clear that the elf had been awake the whole time.

Swallowing down the urge to cry, Bethany nodded.

"Do you want me to tell you how to fix it?"

"Maker, yes."

Zevran grinned.

x-x-x

Bethany walked stiffly towards Sten. The Qunari was taking a break after many hours of chopping down trees for the pyre. He stared at her blankly, like he usually did.

"Sten."

He stared a moment longer. "Yes?"

"Why did you kill the family of farmers?"

His lips pulled down in a frown. "Does it matter? It is done."

It was physically impossible to stare down at someone who was almost two feet taller than oneself, but Bethany tried nonetheless. "It matters to me. One of them was my best friend. You owe it to me to explain the circumstances that led to her death."

"Very well." Sten's expression blanked out again. "I led my kith as the berasaad of the antaam and came to Ferelden to find an answer to a question posed by the Arishok. We were attacked by darkspawn. A family of farmers found me. I lived, yet my sword was gone, my brothers dead. I was not myself. When I came to, I had already killed everyone in my rage."

"You thought the farmers killed your brothers?"

"No. I knew they were killed by darkspawn. I had lost my sword. I panicked."

Bethany's voice rose in outrage. "You killed them over a lost item?!"

Sten frowned, his strange bronze skin tightened around his eyes. "A Qunari's sword is no mere object. It is my asala. I am empty without my sword. I cannot go back, cannot fulfil my duty to the Arishok. Without my sword, I have no purpose. They will think I have deserted. I will be killed on sight."

"They died because you've made a mistake." Bethany was starting to understand.

"Yes."

"I see." Bethany spoke slowly. "I will not forget this, but I think I can forgive. In time. Thank you for telling me."

Sten stared at her. His gaze seemed a little less blank than before.

"Tell the Wardens of your lost sword. Your asala should not be a common sight in Ferelden. We will keep an eye out. "

Sten gave her a nod.

x-x-x

That actually wasn't so bad, Bethany thought. The Qunari was strange, but reasonable enough once she got used to the way he spoke. Besides, holding onto hatred was exhausting. The first part of Zevran's suggestion seemed to be spot on. It was the second part she was worried about.

"Leliana, may I speak with you?" Bethany had found the Sister by the fireplace on the first floor, taking inventory of their supply.

"You may, but shouldn't you be resting?" Leliana asked.

"I could say the same to you."

"Fair enough. What would you like to talk about?"

Bethany fidgeted. "I talked to Sten."

Leliana's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You did?"

Bethany nodded. "Yeah. He is not a bad person. I think I can forgive him."

Leliana looked pleased. "I'm glad to hear."

"I don't think you are a bad person, either." Bethany hurriedly added.

"No?" Leliana's smile was sad. "But you can't say I'm a good person."

"You try to be, though. That has to count for something."

Leliana tilted her head. The expression on her face could only be described as wistful. "I want to believe that. There has to be a reason why the Maker sent His servant to save me when I was at my lowest. My life has to have meaning. Perhaps this is why I was given the vision, perhaps I am needed to do His work."

"I believe so, too." Bethany said in earnest.

Leliana turned her gaze to the fireplace and stared at the dancing flames in quiet contemplation.

Bethany cleared her throat to get her attention. "I… found something when I was exploring the keep. Wait here."

Ignoring the quizzical look from Leliana, Bethany quickly darted over to the small alcove where she had stashed the item earlier. In truth, Zevran was the one who had found it, but he had insisted on her being the one to claim the credit, that her apology would be more effective this way.

"Is that..." Leliana's eyes lit up in delight.

Bethany carefully passed an antique teardrop lute over to Leliana's waiting hands. The polished dark wood glinted warmly by the orange light from the fireplace. It was fortunate Zevran had also found a pouch of strings inside a drawer near where the lute was found. She had cleaned the lute of centuries worth of dust and grime and restrung it, and it was the extent she knew how to handle such instrument. Her mother had tried to pass on her musical skill learnt as a noblewoman in Kirkwall to her children. Sadly none of the siblings had much talent for the finer art.

"A gift. Think of it as an apology. I was angry, and I said some hurtful things without considering your feelings. That was unworthy of me."

"This is wonderful. You are more than forgiven." Leliana breathed. Her skillful fingers flew over the lute, twisting at knobs and plucking at strings to tune the instrument.

Bethany watched, mesmerized.

Once tuned, Leliana began to play. Her voice joined in, and Bethany was enchanted. It was a beautiful yet mournful song, in a language she didn't understand. Elven, she thought.

The song came to an end. Bethany stared at the redhead, and saw her expression changed from serene to concerned. She followed her gaze, and saw Alistair and Daylen both stood there with tears silently rolling down their cheeks.

No explanation was given. The two Wardens disregarded every question asking about their alarming reaction to Leliana's song. They had been behaving very strangely after their secretive conference with Avernus. When asked, they both clammed up and said that it was Warden business.

They stayed at the keep for a couple more days until everyone was fit to travel. The delay was well worth it since they found a lot of gold and extra gear stored at the vault. Levi had also promised he would bring help to get the Warden stronghold up and running again.

The first night they spent at camp after leaving Soldier's Keep, Bethany saw Daylen enter Morrigan's tent. That by itself wasn't all that unexpected, considering the two had been flirting for a while. It was Alistair's reaction that was puzzling. Bethany had expected him to at least look disapproving of Daylen's choice, considering his animosity towards the witch. His reaction was the exact opposite. He actually looked happy, and he even defended Daylen when Wynne started grumbling about it.

"Leave him be, will you? He deserves whatever happiness he can get." Was what Alistair said to the Senior Enchanter. Wynne was gobsmacked. Displeased by Alistair's reply, she launched into a stern lecture on choosing between relationships and responsibilities. Alistair lost it.

"Enough! Do not speak to me of duties and sacrifices. Morrigan makes him happy, and I will not let your prejudice deprive him of that. He's been robbed enough."

Not waiting to see Wynne's reaction, Alistair stormed off.

Bethany followed, not wanting him to be alone so far away from the camp. They eventually stopped at a clearing by a small stream. "Are you alright?" She asked.

Alistair sat down on a large rock and groaned with his face in his hands. "I can't believe I yelled at Wynne."

"Same here. I didn't think you would be the yelling type. Are you going to apologize?" She asked.

"No."

Bethany's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No?"

Alistair shook his head. "You know her the longest, so be honest with me. How mad do you think she is?"

Bethany snorted. "Absolutely furious. Be ready to be glared at for days. On the other hand, I would imagine Morrigan being a lot more civil towards you."

"Oh, joy."

"All that aside, I have to ask what brought this on. The both of you have been acting strangely. We've all noticed."

The moonlight made Alistair's face seemed unnaturally pale. "Please don't ask. I'm not allowed to tell you. The most I can say is that I understand what being a Grey Warden means better than Wynne ever could. Let's just leave it at that."

Bethany relented.

x-x-x

For the next week, Alistair endured Wynne's dirty look stoically, and unapologetically. From the look Daylen gave him, her cousin greatly appreciated Alistair's show of support.

Their plan to go to Orzammar was once again interrupted when they were passing through Bann Loren's land.

"We need to check. Those documents at Ostagar could be used against Loghain. This civil war has to stop." Daylen said.

"Then we'd better go now before the thaw." Alistair agreed.

Bethany shuddered. What Alistair didn't spell out was that the spring rain would turn the old battlefield into a giant mud pit filled with half-rotten corpses. A morbid part of her wondered if it was possible to identify her siblings' bodies after so long. Most likely not. She idly ran a hand over Crookytail's slick black feathers. Ravens were carrions. Perhaps it would be better if she left the bird at camp with Sandal. The boy was great with animals. Both Crookytail and Barkspawn adored him.

"There will be a lot of darkspawn." Leliana warned.

"That I'm not so sure. Ostagar is empty. The darkspawn would have moved on." Daylen said, scratching his chin in thought. "We will go. But if it looks too dangerous, we'll change our course and head west to Haven instead."

The civil war was getting worse. On their way down south, Bethany and Morrigan had to scout extensively to avoid soldiers on top of bandits and darkspawn. Daylen was right that the civil war had to stop. Ferelden could not afford to waste its fighting men on petty squabbles when there was a Blight on.

Thankfully, the amount of soldiers had dropped off sharply once they reached the Hinterlands. Around the same time, Bethany had also successfully took the form of a raven. Flight was not yet achieved. The one time she tried, she fell off a rock while squawking loudly in terror. She had yet to summon enough courage to try again. Zevran making terrible puns about flightless crows did not help with the matter.

While her progress in shapeshifting had stalled, her study of combat magic had picked up under Daylen's tutelage. At first, she went a little cross-eyed having to channel magic through her limbs to augment her strength and reflexes. It took her a while to get used to splitting her attention so that she could sustain the effect while casting without setting herself on fire.

Still, it was easier than healing. Her cousin had gotten so good at combat magic, he had taken to forgo traditional mage robes and donned a set of heavy plates instead. He even gave up his staff and exchanged it for a sword and a shield. The two Wardens would spar every night after they set camp, and every day Daylen became much more deadly at melee combat. Alistair was still the superior fighter, but Daylen was practically untouchable when shrouded in magic.

Bethany could not think to do the same. Her strength was in offensive magic, and wearing too much armor would tire her out too quickly. Not to mention the thought of giving up her staff was akin to giving up a limb. She was content to stay in the back and rain fire down on her enemies instead of rushing forward to meet them in melee range, at least, not until she was proficient enough to do so safely.

As for her study on healing, she was good enough to heal light bruises now. Wynne was still not impressed.

They reached Ostagar in the dead of winter. They only found a scattered handful of frozen corpses in the old fortress where King Cailan's army had gathered. Bethany was certain by now what had happened to all the bodies. Her siblings, her mother, all of the soldiers that had fallen in Ostagar. Nobody deserved this fate.

The next darkspawn she set on fire was unable to scream before the searing flame devoured it whole.

They found King Maric's sword and a stack of letters inside the royal chest in King Cailan's tent. While the sword was a priceless find, the document was the true revelation. It seemed the king had considered setting Queen Anora aside on account of the Queen being barren. This would have given Loghain plenty of motivation to want Cailan dead.

"Do you think Cailan would really put Anora aside and marry Empress Celene like the letters said?" Alistair eyed the stack of parchment like it were a coiled snake

"Possibly. I can't imagine Loghain being too happy about that." Daylen said, shaking his head in disgust. "At least now we know why Loghain wanted the king dead. And we have proof."

Leliana's lips pursed into a frown. "Not necessarily. Empress Celene was playing King Cailan like a harp. Clearly, she had manipulated the young king into infatuation - were I in her shoes, that's what I would have done. I doubt the Queen is truly barren. If the Empress' objective was to sow dissent in Ferelden to create an opening for future invasion, then she had succeeded by a wide margin. The chevaliers she had promised may very well never leave Ferelden soil after the Archdemon is dead. Even if her intention were pure, by marrying the king, she would have gained a kingdom without a single bloodshed."

Alistair glared at her. "What are you trying to say? That Loghain was right to betray the king, to save Ferelden?"

"Not at all." Leliana denied quickly, not wanting to start a fight. "What I mean to say is that in Loghain's mind, his action was completely justified. To him, by not charging into battle, he was preserving Ferelden's army. By letting Cailan die, he was saving the country from future Orlesian invasion. He thought himself a hero who did what must be done. A lot of people will think the same. When come time to confront him, bringing up Ostagar will not help you. We need to find other ways to bring Loghain down."

Alistair deflated. "You're right. This is why we even have a civil War. They look at him and see the Hero of River Dane, the man who fought alongside King Maric and freed Ferelden from Orlesian boots. These letters are useless."

Daylen patted him on the shoulder. "We tried. At least now we know. Come on, let's go."

They didn't go very far before they were attacked by a mob of darkspawn.

"Thief!" Alistair shouted as he shield bashed one particularly burly hurlock over the head. "That's Cailan's boots! Give it back, you bastard!"

They chased after the darkspawn, clearing one clump after another and recovered several piece of Cailan's distinctive golden plates. When they reached the land bridge, the party abruptly stopped at the gruesome sight of the late king's frozen corpse put on display like a macabre scarecrow. The darkspawn had desecrated his body, mocked him even in his death.

"No…" Alistair cried.

Bethany looked at the king's half brother in sympathy. The cold combined with necromantic magic had preserved Cailan's body so that he looked as if he were asleep. It was almost painful to see how much Alistair resembled the dead man on display. Their familial tie was undeniable when seen side-by-side.

"It seems one of the emissaries is a necromancer. Be wary." Morrigan warned.

"I can feel more of them that way." Daylen pointed at the tower. "We'll come back to give him a proper pyre. We need to deal with the necromancer first. It's too dangerous to let it live."

They crossed the bridge and cleaned out the tower, and eventually they tracked down the necromancer through a tunnel and arrived at the valley where King Cailan's army had clashed with the darkspawn swarm months ago. The necromancer had baited them there for a reason. In front of the emissary stood a gigantic ogre, freshly raised from the dead. Two blades were still sticking out of its half rotten chest where its heart should be.

When it charged at them, the ground shook. The sight of it turned Bethany's knees to jelly.

Alistair and Daylen were at the front, so they took the brunt of the impact. As the two of them were sent flying halfway across the field, screaming and flailing, the rest of the group scattered as if a mean child had poured boiling water over an anthill.

Sten bellowed a challenge at the ogre to get its attention. His sword bit into leathery hide, and a gash ripped open its left calf. Unlike the countless darkspawn they had killed so far, there was no squirting black blood accompanying this cut. In fact, the wound didn't bleed at all.

The ogre backhanded the Qunari away almost casually. Bethany didn't have the chance to run very far before the ogre snatched her off the ground with one hand.

Its massive hand squeezed, and Bethany's vision darkened. She couldn't breathe; she was going to die.

A bolt of ice and a massive boulder both bashed the monster over its head at the same time. Dazed, the ogre's grip loosened just a fraction, giving Bethany one last ragged lungful of air before it slammed its clenched fist down on the frozen ground. Once. Twice. Thrice.

There was shouting. People were calling out to her. Dying felt like floating. Weightless.

No, _flying_.

Bethany let out a terrified screech as she circled the field. The world looked very different from above, it took her a moment to comprehend. Cawing with relief, she landed clumsily on the ground, far away from the fighting, and shifted out of her raven form.

It hurt to breathe. The ogre had broken a few ribs. Bethany gasped in pain as she called fire down on the ogre's head. It let out a mighty roar just as more blades sliced into its legs.

Leliana had abandoned her bow. The chantry Sister took a running leap, jumped on top of the ogre, and plunged twin daggers into its eye sockets with a feral snarl. Her momentum tipped the ogre on its back, and with the added steel wedged into its brain, the undead stayed dead for good this time.

The necromancer was on the ground, too. Zevran had nearly severed its head. They had won the day. The field was quiet after that.

Bethany's legs folded under her weight, her whole body shook from the aftermath of adrenaline rush. This had been too close.

"Bethany!" Her cousin ran towards her. His shield clattered on the snowy ground in a muffled thud. He knelt next to her and gently touched her face. "Maker! How? I thought you were..."

Her hysterical laughter sounded shrill to her own ears. "Thank Morrigan. I shifted into a raven and took flight. If I weren't fast enough..." Bethany shuddered.

"Had I known the threat of death was all it took for you to learn quickly, I would have thrown you off a cliff last week." Came Morrigan's dry voice.

Leliana hissed angrily at the witch's lack of tact. Both Alistair and Wynne gaped at Morrigan like she had sprout horns.

Bethany just shook her head and sighed. "Let's not." Having literally slipped from the clutch of death once was quite enough.

x-x-x

Daylen split the team and took half of them to see Flemeth while the rest waited at camp. They came back smelling of singed hair and burn salve. Alistair was sporting half an eyebrow while Leliana had to have her hair trimmed to even it out.

When asked, Alistair gave a two-word answer: High Dragon.

"I thought you went to see Morrigan's mother." Bethany asked.

Alistair huffed. "Flemeth _was_ the High Dragon."

"And why would she breathe fire at you guys?"

Alistair gave the direction of Morrigan's tent a deadpan glare. Bethany wasn't sure if the target of his ire was the witch or the person she was currently sharing her tent with. "Because she was trying to kill us."

Bethany was thoroughly confounded by the sequence of event. "Hold on. What do you mean she tried to kill you? Why would she do that after she had saved you in Ostagar? Is this because she didn't like Daylen courting her daughter?"

Alistair snorted. "I don't think she cared about that one bit. You should ask Morrigan herself. I swear, this mother-daughter pair has the most dysfunctional relationship in all of Thedas."

From what she had heard so far, Bethany couldn't disagree.

They backtracked out of the Wilds and traveled west through the Hinterlands towards the Frostback Mountains. Several villages they had passed through looked completely deserted. Refugees on the road told them that most had fled to Redcliffe or to Denerim; any place that had sturdy castle walls to protect them from the darkspawn, really. Some even crossed the Waking Sea and flocked to the Free Marches. Many wealthy merchants who owned oxen carts had uprooted entirely and escaped to Orlais. With bandits and darkspawn alike afflicting the region, those who had stayed had done so because they were too poor or too sick to travel.

After a brief stop at Redcliffe to resupply, the party continued west.

As they entered the mountain range, the number of darkspawn dropped off to a trickle. Rumors had it that the swarm had slowly moved east into the Southron Hills, ravaging farmsteads of the entire region. Even if the Archdemon were to drop dead right this instant, Ferelden would most likely still suffer plague and famine for years to come. If the horde ever moved north of the Drakon river and devastated the Bannorns, the breadbasket of the nation, their only hope would be to crawl back to Orlais and begged Empress Celene to send in Orlesian Wardens along with her Chevaliers, Ferelden pride be damned.

When they were passing through Sulcher's Pass, they bumped into a merchant whose mule had ran off. The guy handed Daylen an odd-looking metal rod and told them that it could be used to control a golem. It was a dubious claim at best, but since the village that supposedly housed the golem was only half a day away, they decided to check it out.

Sten was displeased by yet another detour. No one else cared. It felt like they had been on the road forever, so none of them complained about the prospect of sleeping under a solid roof. Ferelden winter had always been harsh. Traversing through the Frostback Mountains during the dead of winter meant risking frostbite and hypothermia even for the experienced. Staying the night at Honnleath and resupply before heading deeper into the mountains sounded like an excellent idea.

Bethany's hope of a hot bath and a real bed was dashed when they saw black smoke from a distance away. She flew ahead and reported back with news of darkspawn. No one knew why there were darkspawn in the middle of the mountain, but there they were. The carnage left behind by the darkspawn made her stomach churn. Bethany half wished and half feared she would grow numb to so much death by the time this Blight was done.

They found the golem standing in the village centre, completely frozen. Speaking the password while holding the control rod did nothing. Disappointed, they spreaded out in search of survivors.

"Look at the markings; do they not appear dwarven to you?" Bethany reached up and touched the intricate engravings along the golem's collar.

"All golems are dwarven made." Wynne replied, studying the construct with some interest. "The dwarves were said to have used golems to fight the darkspawn in the Deep Road in Ages past. It is now a lost art. We have a golem stored in the basement of the Tower, somewhere. It does nothing, same as this one."

"Can they speak?" Bethany asked, scratching at Crookytail's neck absentmindedly. Perching on her shoulder, her pet raven rubbed its head affectionately against her cheek.

"I hope they do. Imagine the stories they could tell."

Bethany went around the village, putting out fire with her ice. Sten and Alistair had removed their armor for the dirty work of piling up corpses for the pyre. Zevran and Leliana searched the houses to salvage whatever that was useful. They came back with no report of survivors.

Daylen, on the other hand, reported much better success. Not only did he find a dozen people alive and hiding in a wine cellar behind a magical barrier, he rescued a little girl from a desire demon that had possessed a cat. On top of that, he had obtained the real password to activate the golem from the family of its previous owner.

The golem didn't much care what Daylen had to say. The first thing that came out of its mouth after it woke was, "get that little demon away from me" while pointing sharply at Bethany.

The mage recoiled from the accusation. "I'm no demon!"

"Not you. The flying vermin! How can you stand letting it near you? You're just asking it to use your hair as a toilet. Disgusting!" The golem raged.

Bethany was offended. "Crookytail will never do that."

"I don't care. All birds are the same. Be warned, if your pet demon lift its tail anywhere near my head, I will squish it to a very fine paste."

"You touch my pet, and I'll make sure you will have a flock of birds circling your head at all time."

It was the golem's turn to recoil. "You wouldn't dare!"

Bethany crossed her arms. "Try me."

And that set the tone of their interaction from this point on.

x-x-x

In their quest to find the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, no one expected to run into a town full of fanatical cultists instead.

Haven reeked of blood magic and corruption. Bethany almost gave up her lunch when she saw the blood-stained sacrificial altar inside a house. Even Morrigan, for all her bravado, had wrinkled her nose at the sickly sweet scent of decay permeating this entire town.

They found Brother Genitivi being held captive in the chantry. He showed them how to access the hidden passage that would lead to the temple that held the Urn of Sacred Ashes, but he was in no condition to offer more help.

Bethany could hardly believe that the relic existed, nevermind actually finding it. The catch was that to reach the Ashes, they needed to fight through a cavern infested with cultists, wraiths, and drakes.

Eventually, they emerged at the mountain top and came face to face with a High Dragon. Thankfully, it didn't seem to have noticed the intruders yet.

Bethany was not ashamed to admit she had whimpered at the sight of the false Andraste, especially with the knowledge that the winged beast was all but immune to her fire.

"Ration your mana to keep your defense up. Watch out for its breath attack." Daylen patted her in the back. "Keep your distance, and you'll be fine."

Alistair added very helpfully, "I try to think of it as practice for the archdemon. It can't be as bad."

Bethany swallowed. Switching to heavier armor instead of wearing the very flammable mage robe suddenly sounded like a fantastic idea in her head.

It shouldn't come as a surprise, but dragons could fly.

The beast lift off after getting annoyed by flashing blades. With a powerful flap of its enormous wings, it switched position and landed within breathing distance of the back rank, where the squisher members of the party were. As it landed, it sent a strong gust of wind that knocked them all on their backs. Bethany scrambled to her feet and hastily shot forth a cone of cold at the dragon's gaping maw. The roiling flame brewing at its throat extinguished with a loud hiss of steam. Not waiting around for the dragon to recover, Bethany ran as far as she could and continued casting from a safe distance away.

Daylen's true genius with the ancient elven magic shone through in the most disturbing way. At one point, the High Dragon had used her cousin as a chew toy, biting and shaking him vigorously before spitting him out. Mostly undamaged, Daylen got back on his feet without delay and retaliated by conjuring a swarm of stinging insects and setting them to attack the dragon's face. While the beast was distracted, the melee fighters converged and hacked at its exposed neck in a whirlwind of steels.

When the dragon finally tipped over in an ocean of its own blood, they were completely covered in red to the last man.

They took a moment to patch up their wounds with potions and poultices; the mages were too tired to cast healing spells. Daylen's plate armor was sporting a ring of teeth marks, and the pauldrons had been ripped off. Alistair had lost his helmet. If Bethany were to guess, it had probably rolled down the side of the mountain. Leliana was muttering under her breathe while trying to pick the gore out of her hair. Bethany herself had given up. The dragon blood had soaked through her robe, making everything sticky and gross. She would love to jump into a lake right now for a quick rinse, middle of the winter or not.

The guardian of the temple greeted them with their regrets. This entity appeared human, but Bethany had a feeling it wasn't entirely so. For one thing, if he were who he had claimed to be, he would have been over a thousand years old. Besides, no human could read minds the way he could. He asked if Bethany had failed her family by not being there to help them flee the Blight. Her answer was a maybe.

"I could have helped, or I could have died with them in Lothering. Only the Maker knows for certain." She said, ignoring the suffocating tightness at her chest. How many times had she asked herself the same question?

A series of trials followed. The temple guardian called it a test of faith. Bethany didn't know what to think of it. Did answering a few riddles correctly prove that they were worthy? Did one's skill in combat translated to their piety? She highly doubted that.

It was, until they had reached the inner sanctum of the temple, and were stopped by a wall of flame.

Daylen grabbed Zevran and moved him to the front. "We won't have you ogling everyone." He said, before he began to take off his armor.

"How fortuitous. I do not mind so much to be ogled. My fine physique is nothing to be ashamed of, yes?" Zevran preened.

Bethany blanched. Realy? Was the whole "casting off all your mortal trappings" thing meant to be taken literally? Apparently it was, because while she dawdled, everyone else was already stripping. Not even the smallclothes or bandages got to stay on.

It was painfully awkward. Bethany had tried not to look, but of course she got an eyeful of Alistair's backside when he bent over to set his armor on the floor. Quickly jerking her head around while wishing for a shot of strong liquor, her gaze unwittingly landed on Leliana instead. Bethany's brain blanked out at the sight of ugly scars crisscrossing her entire back. Whip marks, burn scars, uneven cuts left by serrated blades. Strips of skin had been ripped off and healed over repeatedly. Each infliction was done to cause pain.

Leliana had been subjected to torture. What kind of monster would do that to a person?

They walked through the flame, naked, yet unburnt. The fire went out after they had all passed. Daylen approached the urn and took a pinch of the ashes. The expression on his face could only be described as peaceful.

Leliana knelt in front of the altar and prayed with tears of joy shining in her eyes. Bethany and Wynne both joined the Sister and gave their thanks. She prayed to the Bride to watch over the Wardens in their quest to end the Blight. She prayed to the Maker that her family would find peace by His side.

Her prayer was answered with silence.

Dirty and tired, the party went down the mountain and took over the largest house in Haven to settle in for the night. Bethany had to rinse and repeat three times to scrub out all the filth. After trying but failing to remove all the dragon blood from her clothes, her well-worned enchanter robe was unceremoniously tossed into the fireplace. Fortunately, she had packed a spare robe for such an emergency. In any case, she had decided to visit an armorer in Redcliffe and see if she could find a set of light armor that didn't look completely ridiculous on her.

"You have been staring. You have questions for me, no?" Leliana asked.

Bethany ducked her head down and feigned fascination with the sewing kit in her hand. She was supposed to be mending her spare robe; there was a large rip on the left sleeve, and it was the reason why it had stayed at the bottom of her pack.

"Um…"

"You saw the scars."

Bethany bobbed her head, a little embarrassed to be so transparent. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look. I just, sort of... saw."

The expression on Leliana's face was hard to decipher, but her posture seemed relaxed. Bethany hoped she wasn't too angry with her for prying. "That's alright. My scars are quite noticeable. I could tell you want to know how I've gotten them?"

Bethany bit her bottom lip. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone."

Leliana smiled. There was a fragility in the curve of her lips that made Bethany wanted to give her a hug.

"I don't have to, but I would like to. My scars are a reminder of the hardest lesson I've learned. I was betrayed by the one I loved. Marjolaine was the bardmaster who had trained me since I was sixteen. She was beautiful, charismatic, dazzling. I was in awe. I was in love. I would've done anything she asked."

Bethany's fingers dug into her robe until her knuckles turned white.

The smile on Leliana's face turned bitter. "She set me up to take the fall for a crime she had committed. They called it treason and tortured me to confession. Ironically, she needn't bother to betray me. I would have gladly endured every abuse if it meant to protect her. Love had made me blind. I was a fool to have trusted a bard."

"It's not your fault. She didn't deserve you." Bethany blurted out.

"You are too kind." Leliana sighed.

"Do you still love her?"

Leliana seemed surprised by the question. "Love? No. Whatever affection I once held for her had died in that dark dungeon cell. Having said that, I can't say I hate her, either. She has earned my scorn and disgust, undoubtedly. But Marjolaine is my past. She has made me who I am today. I think of her and I see a cautionary tale. I am terrified I would become her."

Bethany's brow knitted together in confusion. "Why? You are nothing like her. You are a good person."

"Am I? Or have I succeeded in making you believe so?" Leliana let out a derisive snort. "What I am is a very good bard. With words alone I've made a young nobleman willingly walked naked in the busiest street of Val Royeaux and used the distraction to rob him of his family heirloom."

"Really?" The image of Alistair's pasty butt flashed in front of Bethany's eyes. She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Really. And it was cold, too." Leliana smirked.

"The weather must have made it more challenging to talk him out of his clothes."

Leliana gave her a funny look. It seemed she had wanted to say something, but she kept her tongue in the end.

x-x-x

The small pinch of Sacred Ashes healed the comatose Arl and roused him to a world that had gone wrong. Bethany watched sympathetically at the man who had lost his only son to the Templars. The grief and resignation on the old man's face mirrored that of her own mother when she was taken away.

"Gather your army. When you're ready, I will call a Landsmeet." Arl Eamon studied Alistair with a calculating glint in his eyes. "The blood of Therin should sit in the throne of Ferelden."

Alistair flinched. "You can't be serious."

"You are Maric's only surviving son. This is your duty."

The mention of duty made both Wardens bristle. "You didn't seem to care one lick who his father was when you put a child in a kennel, when you abandoned him to the chantry. You've made it perfectly clear that he was unwanted, unloved. Now you want to use him when it's convenient." Daylen cut in, his face was red with indignation on his Warden brother's behalf.

Arl Eamon looked away. Shame flickered across his face. "Think of me however you will. The fact remains unchanged. Alistair is the only legitimate contender for the throne."

"Why are we talking about the throne when there is a Blight on?" Alistair's voice rose steadily. "I am a Warden in the middle of the Blight. My duty is to slay the Archdemon."

Arl Eamon was also losing his patience. "Your place is not at the frontline. As king you can command an entire army to fight under a united banner. Or have you not learnt your lesson from King Cailan? His delusion of grandeur had plunged the country into civil war!"

"You did not just say that!" Alistair was shouting now. "Only the Wardens can kill the Archdemon!"

"I'm sure Wardens are skilled warriors. You've overestimated yourself if you think only the Wardens can…"

"No." Daylen interrupted again. His eyes were flinty and unyielding. "The Archdemon is immortal. It has the soul of an Old God, and it can jump into the body of any darkspawn when its physical body is destroyed. The First Blight had lasted nearly two centuries because of that."

All color drained from the Arl's face.

Daylen continued, "the army we are raising is for cutting through the swarm of darkspawn so we can get close to the Archdemon and strike the killing blow."

"Daylen." Alistair put a hand on his shoulder and looked back at the room full of people. His expression turned anxious. "Perhaps we should continue in private. We've said too much already."

The rest of them quickly left the room. Bethany's head was spinning from the new information - Grey Warden secret - that no one else was supposed to know. Was that why the two had be behaving strangely since Soldier's Peak? The old blood mage Avernus must have told them the secret. How could two Wardens possibly slay a corrupted Old God? King Cailan's inclination to accept Empress Celene's offer of Orlesian Wardens and chevaliers suddenly seemed to be a wise choice.

Loghain's paranoia of all things Orlesian might have doomed all of Ferelden.

While the Wardens were having their clandestine meeting with the Arl, the companions went down to the village to pick up more supplies for their journey to Orzammar. Bethany wandered off from the group to pay a visit to the local blacksmith. Unfortunately the shop was low on stock because of the all the soldiers assembled at the castle. Smith Owen, however, was able to fit a chainmail shirt over her robe.

"Wear some padding under the mail and cinch it up with a belt, and you'll be set." The old man said, grinning at her toothily. He had gone the extra mile to cater to her odd request to show his appreciation for saving her daughter. "And take this, too."

Bethany took the longbow and held it carefully with both hands.

"My daughter _found_ this in the castle. She asked me to pass it to you guys to show her thanks. It'll be more useful putting arrows in darkspawn than gathering dust in a storage room."

Not knowing what to say, Bethany thanked him profusely and went searching for Leliana. When the bard's face lit up at the offered bow, Bethany's heart leapt in her chest.

Leliana strung up the bow and tested the tension with her eyes hooded in delight. "It is beautiful. This bow is exquisitely made. You could tell the craftsmanship by the sound of the string alone."

"Like a lute." Bethany said with a chuckle.

"Like a lute." Laughed the bard. "I shall call it - Far Song."

"It's a beautiful name."

Leliana leaned in and pressed her lips on Bethany's cheek. "Thank you."

Before she understood what had happened, Leliana had already moved away. Only the sweet scent of Andraste's Grace lingered.

x-x-x

A/N: Next up, to Orzammar!


	3. To Orzammar!

Chapter 3: To Orzammar!

To those who didn't know anything about Sten, the way the Qunari caressed his sword could only be described as creepily obsessive. To Bethany, however, the expression on his usually blank face was one of serenity that strongly reminded her of Daylen when he held the sacred ashes in his palm.

"You've recovered your asala. You can go home now." Bethany said while studying the bronze-skinned giant discreetly.

Sten looked up from his task of oiling his sword with a rag. The gigantic two-handed sword shone warmly, reflecting the orange campfire light off its smooth surface. "No."

"No?"

"I have pledged my arms to aid the Wardens. The Archdemon yet lives. I cannot go home until the battle is won."

Bethany had not expected the Qunari who had slaughtered a family of farmers in a fit of rage to be an honorable man. "The Blight may take years. You will stay 'till the end?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation.

Satisfied by the answer, Bethany handed Sten a small paper-wrapped package. "Daylen mentioned you like cookies. I found some in the castle's kitchen."

The stack of cookies looked tiny in Sten's large hands. He nodded his thanks and ate slowly, careful not to drop any crumbs on his lap.

Bethany went back to Morrigan's fire. Wynne was not feeling well, and Daylen was busy getting bashed around by Alistair and Zevran in a threeway sparring match, so she asked the witch to supervise her training instead.

"I have taught you all you need from me regarding shapeshifting. The rest is up to you." Morrigan said, a hint of smugness in her husky voice.

Bethany frowned at the witch, who was entirely too pleased with herself. This was more than likely due to Morgan soundly showing up Wynne as the better teacher.

"Your magic is volatile, capricious. Shapeshifting is a suitable branch for you. Similarly, 'tis the reason your affinity towards fire is a multitude stronger than ice. I have noticed Wynne attempting to teach you earth magic. You needn't bother. You will find no more success than learning healing spells."

"You… may be right." Bethany admitted sheepishly. Wynne had tried to start her on the simplest earth spell yesterday. Her magic had not want to shape earth any more than to mend flesh.

Morrigan's golden eyes danced gleefully by the fire light. "Earth is the wrong element for you. I shall teach you how to manipulate storm; it will come to you as naturally as fire does."

Bethany had never tried her hands on any lightning spells before. Her father had favored fire and ice, so that was what she had learnt. Her expression must have given away her apprehension because Morrigan added, with a raised eyebrow, "do you doubt my judgement?"

"No, of course not. You are a very good teacher." Bethany blanched and looked around wildly. "Don't tell Wynne that. Please?"

"I do not have to. The result will speak for itself." Morrigan purred.

Bethany gulped.

The grin on Morrigan's face was showing too much teeth. "Shall we start?"

Thus began her nightly training of a new branch of primal magic at a feverish pace. Lightning was similar to fire in that both elements were unforgiving to the undisciplined. More often than not, she would go to bed with a head of wild hair and both hands slathered with burn salves.

Wynne, as expected, gave Morrigan a hard time for 'stealing' her student. Not to be outdone by an apostate, the Senior Enchanter demonstrated the depth and breadth of her lifelong study of the arcane and taught Bethany a dizzying array of obscure spells in every branch of magic. Wynne's approach of throwing everything at her and seeing what stuck produced very mixed results. Regardless, Bethany silently suffered through all her lessons with as much stoic composure as a Qunari.

"This petty competition has gone on long enough. They should follow Antivan custom and settle their differences with a dual, instead of squabbling by proxy." Leliana clicked her tongue in disapproval as she handed Bethany a vial of lyrium potion.

"I wouldn't mind taking a break from their attention." The pounding inside her head dulled to an uncomfortable throb after she tipped the potion in one quick swallow. Liquid warmth glided down her chest and spread through her cold limbs. Bethany let out a long sigh while working some feelings into her numb fingers. "Look on the bright side: at least I don't burn my hands anymore. And my casting stamina has improved a great deal. I should thank them."

The deadpan look on Leliana's face clearly showed that she disagreed.

"If they go overboard, I will ask Daylen to mediate. Honestly, I think they are simply bored. We've been on the road too long. Once we reach Orzammar, they should have more important things to do than training me."

Her prediction was proven true. As soon as they passed through Orzammar's gate, her teachers' attention was swiftly drawn back to the Warden's quest of seeking dwarven support. The brewing civil war within the dwarven kingdom over the succession issue had everyone on edge. Blood was being spilled on the street between different factions. To maintain Grey Warden neutrality, Daylen and Alistair each took a team to make contact with Lord Harrowmont's and Prince Bhelen's people separately.

While the party was running around Orzammar, doing shady business in the name of the next dwarven king, Bethany was entrusted with babysitting duty. She was propositioned no less than three times during her brief stroll within the Commons.

"I will squish the next dwarf who asked to purchase me." Shale's threat sounded more like a promise.

"Their interest in you is understandable. A golem is a rare sight." Bethany said.

Shale stared down at her. "I suppose. You flesh creatures, however, are all alike."

"Really? You don't see the differences between dwarves, elves, and humans?"

"Oh, that's not what I mean. You are all very squishy and very greedy. Had my control rod still worked, none of you would hesitate to command me as you would a slave."

Bethany was slightly offended by the remark. "I have no interest in commanding you of anything - other than to refrain from killing my pet, that is."

Shale's attitude towards her had improved slightly since she left Crookytail with Sandal at the camp outside of Orzammar. A bird was not meant to be deprived of sky.

"Then you should reconsider your choice of pet, perch." The golem scoffed.

Bethany blinked at her. "Perch?"

"That's what you are. A bird perch." Shale growled with disgust.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, Bethany thought with some relief. She had overheard Shale referred to Wynne as the "mage well past her prime, don't mind the sagging bits" and didn't need the golem's brand of brutal honesty to trample her self-esteem.

"Wow! I didn't know the Circle can make golems." A high-pitched voice squealed. "Is it magic?" The young dwarven female inched closer and tried to touch Shale, but was stopped by Bethany before the golem could tear her arm off.

"That's not a good idea." Bethany gently steered the dwarf away.

"I'm sorry, I just get so excited." The dwarf let out a nervous giggle. "I'm Dagna of the Smith Caste. You are from the Circle, aren't you?"

"I am a Circle mage, yes." Bethany said, squashing down her instinct of denying her mage status to anyone who asked.

"Excellent!" Dagna's eyes were shining in barely contained glee. "I want to join the Circle and study magic. Please, can you help me?"

"Um… You do know dwarves can't be mages, right?"

"That won't be a problem. Magic is not all about casting spells. I can work Lyrium. Lyrium is magic, isn't it?"

Lyrium was magic manifested in physical form. "True. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes!"

Bethany thought about it. "I suppose I could write you a letter of introduction to First Enchanter Irving. I'll ask Warden Enchanter Daylen and Senior Enchanter Wynne to sign it as well. The Circle needs all the help it can gets right now. With us vouching for you, he will not turn you away."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Dagna tackled her in a tight hug before she bounced away. "I better go pack! I'll be right back." And then she was gone.

Bethany still couldn't figure out why Dagna would come to her for help. Was it because she looked like a mage? Bethany quietly contemplated what her sister would have said about her encouraging a dwarf to join the Circle. Nothing flattering came to mind.

"She's your problem. Better start writing." Shale said.

x-x-x

When the rest of the gang came back to the Grey Warden barrack in the Commons after a hard day's work of king-making, Bethany had some interesting stories of her own to tell.

"Do I have a face that says I'm to be the solver of everyone's problems?" Bethany was more than a little perturbed. Why else would some random dwarf come up to her and ask her to wrangle nugs?

"Actually, you do." Daylen said with a grin while Alistair nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Seeing her dubious expression, Leliana explained, "you look like someone who cares. It also doesn't hurt that you seem approachable as well as capable."

"If you say so." Bethany was not entirely convinced. She had thought herself more of a wallflower, an insignificant chantry mouse, someone who was easily overlooked. Marian and Carver were the ones who garnered attention. People looked to them for help; they usually looked right past her.

"What brought this on?" Wynne asked.

Bethany wrinkled her nose. "I had to wrangle nugs by myself. What did you do all day?"

"We fought in the Proving. We won." Alistair said.

"We killed a dragon in the palace." Daylen said.

All eyes were on him. Daylen shrugged.

"Wait. Prince Bhelen asked you to kill a dragon?" Alistair asked with some credulity.

"No, that was completely unrelated. We were asked to deliver paper to a couple nobles. One of them was out in Aeducan Thaig."

Alistair's eyebrows climbed up to his hairline. "Didn't you have to go through the Deep Roads to get there?"

"Briefly. The lord I had to find brought a small army down. They had put down braziers along the way. It wasn't so bad."

Still, Bethany had a bad feeling about it. Her gut was telling her the dwarves were planning to use the Grey Wardens to their own ends, much like the Dalish had.

The next day, while Bethany was babysitting Shale again, the rest of the companions followed the Wardens into the carta hideout in Dust Town to remove the head of the criminal organization. Bethany had no complaint about her babysitting duties after hearing about how many dwarves they had to slaughter to get to their target. Killing darkspawn and demons was one thing, killing people was different.

Since Bethany had been out of the loop so far, she was blindsided when the Wardens began planning out an expedition into the Deep Roads.

"Both candidates want us to brave the Deep Roads and bring back Paragon Branka to name the next king. The Assembly is perfectly happy to remain in deadlock into the next decade out of principal. We have no choice. Without a legitimate king on the throne, the dwarves won't give us an army." Daylen explained with an annoyed scowl.

"At least they gave us a guide and some gold for the fun trip." Alistair's face pinched into a grimace. "Although how useful that drunk dwarf is is still debatable."

Uncertain of how long their foray into the Deep Roads would be, they packed an obscene amount of supplies. Everything was divided up and strapped to each person while every inch of exposed skin was covered by oil treated wool clothes to prevent the taint from catching.

Bethany had never missed Bodahn's mule-drawn cart so much. She told herself that the load could only get lighter since most of her burden was food and potions. Had she not toughened up from months of hiking through Ferelden, she would have folded over by the weight of her pack. Comparing to some others, however, she had it easy.

Being the strongest of them all, Sten was ladened with extra luggage on top of his own massive plate armors. Poor Leliana was bristling with several quivers of arrows like an offended quillback. Alistair had a giant wheel of hard cheese added to his normal provision. He had no one else to blame but his own cheese addiction. Fortunately they didn't have to bring extra water since underground springs were abundant and reliable in the Deep Roads. Tents were also left at the barrack since they were technically indoor already.

At the gate to the Deep Roads, a dwarf that stunk of stale ale and sour sweat was waiting for them. Bethany was worried for a second that the dwarf was set aflame from the alcohol in his breath. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the dwarf was sporting a head of the most magnificent red hair and beard.

"Took ya long enough." The dwarf grumbled before taking a swig from his hip flask. Like everyone else in the group, he was bulging with supplies strapped to his person. "Let's get this over with."

A squad of well-armed city guards stopped the party from going through. "Oghren! Where do you think you're going?" The guard captain shouted at their new addition.

"To find my sodding wife." Oghren pointed back with a thumb. "The Grey Wardens are the only ones with the balls to do what must be done."

The guard captain gave him a mistrustful glare but let the party pass.

Whatever preconceived notion Bethany had regarding the Deep Roads, it was nothing like she had imagined. The Deep Roads were, as its name suggested, more roads than simple tunnels. With lava lighting the way and high ceiling dotted with glittering crystals, it was neither dark nor cramped. The roads were wide enough that six brontos could walk abreast with room to spare. There were even road signs and colorful scrolls of mosaic decorating the walls. Every hundred paces or so, a lit coal brazier could be found at the side of the roads. Those must have been put in place by the noble house Daylen had mentioned before.

Several hours into the Deep Roads, it all changed. A cave-in blocked their way, and the only path forward was a narrow tunnel dug into the wall. Daylen led the charge, the rest of them followed in a single file. All the mages were spaced out evenly, each holding a ball of mage fire in their palm.

Bethany was depressed that her experience of the Deep Roads had finally matched her expectation.

Time soon lost all meanings. It was always night time underground, and they could barely see a few yards ahead. The black tunnels split off to countless forks, looped around and reconnected at seemingly random points. Oghren's stone sense was the only thing that kept them moving towards the right direction. Or at least Bethany hoped that was the case. They could have been walking in circles and she would have never known. While they were stumbling around in the unending maze of twists and turns, denizens of the deep stirred in the dark to defend their territories. Acid spitting deepstalkers, giant spiders, darkspawn; it mattered not. They all came in swarms.

The darkness, the stale air, the faint echoing clicking noises. Everything about the Deep Roads made Bethany want to crawl out of her skin. Thankfully, they eventually emerged from the darkspawn made tunnels and were back on the proper dwarven roads. This section of the main path had fallen into disrepair compared to the first leg of the journey. No more lit braziers. Instead, they found burnt out torches, glowing deep mushrooms speckling the cave walls, and luminescent slime growing at the bottom of shallow puddles.

Bethany was relieved when Oghren announced that he had found signs that Branka had passed through Caridin's Cross. They were on the right track, and Ortan Thaig was not far off. What followed was three days of wasted time because they had taken a wrong turn at some point.

They didn't find Branka or her house in Ortan Thaig. Instead, they found more darkspawn and giant spiders. This was also where Bethany came face to face with the gruesome consequences of the taint.

One of the first things Daylen had told her when she left the Tower was to avoid darkspawn blood with extreme prejudice. Bethany had known that the taint was a deadly poison only the Grey Warden had the cure of, hence the reason why everyone was sweating under layers of stuffy oiled sheets.

The tainted dwarf they ran into in the thaig invoked in Bethany an equal measure of pity and revulsion. The Maker must have been a vindictive bastard if He thought the taint was a fitting punishment for the Magisters' hubris. After a brief conversation with the wretched dwarf, Daylen quietly slipped a dagger between the ghoul's ribs and ended his suffering. Bethany hoped her cousin would show the same mercy to her if she were the one inflicted. After the incident, no one uttered a word of complaint about the oiled sheets ever again.

Bethany had her first proper wash in two weeks by the rushing river flowing through Ortan Thaig. This far into the Deep Roads, hygiene was a luxury and privacy was nonexistent. (It had taken her days to finally stop cringing every time someone had to do their business behind a rock within hearing distance.)

She also had her first bite of roasted deepstalker when they made camp inside one of the more intact houses. The meat was stringy and tough, but after two weeks of nothing but salted bronto jerky and hardtack that could be used as bludgeoning clubs, Bethany devoured her portion with gusto. Leliana even found a serviceable cooking pot in the abandoned thaig and made a hearty meat stew with roots and mushrooms. Stuffed to the gill with warm food, surrounded by sturdy shelter, cleansed of grime and sweat, Bethany fell into the most restful sleep she had since entering the Deep Roads.

The next two weeks (or was it three?) had her doubting whether they would ever see sunlight again. By this point, Bethany had killed so many giant spiders and deepstalkers, she was confident she could have assumed those shapes if she so desired. For obvious reasons, she didn't bother to try. Morrigan, on the other hand, had no such distaste for the creepy crawlies. After killing the biggest, meanest, most poisonous spider queen to ever existed in Thedas, the witch mastered its terrifying shape - one more reason for Alistair to keep a wide berth from the apostate.

Following Branka's journal, Oghren led the party to an area known as the Dead Trenches. There, the stink of taint and corruption was so strong, Bethany had to breathe through a scarf so her nose didn't fall off her face.

The Wardens had been on edge for days; not surprising, considering they were deep in darkspawn territory. Their nightmares had also steadily worsened to the point now both of them had dark rings under their eyes. When they reached the solitary stone bridge that spanned across the yawning abyss, they saw the reason why the Wardens were near foaming at the mouth.

Was this what it was like at Ostagar? Bethany gaped at the countless lit torches glowing like lava at the bottom of the trenches. A sea of darkspawn had amassed there as maggots wriggling inside the rotten belly of a decomposing corpse. The muffled growls and hisses, the thudding footsteps. All the sounds of an army blurred into an indiscernible rumble of war. When this blighted army reached the surface, Ferelden would be doomed.

An enormous dragon shot out of the trenches with a soul-piercing roar that rent the air. It landed on the bridge and opened its mawl. A jet of purple fire shot forth along with another bone rattling roar. The heat of the magic laced flame could be felt from where they were hiding. Bethany collapsed on all four in blind terror. This beast was no simple High Dragon; she should know since she had helped kill the false Andraste not so long ago. This could only be the Archdemon.

How in the Maker's name was anyone able to slay this monstrosity? How many Wardens did it take to kill the last Archdemon? Hundreds? Thousands? And they had griffons to ride on to launch an aerial assault. How could two junior Wardens plus a handful of tagalongs ever end the Blight?

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

Leliana's fevered chant stalled her mounting panic and a calm settled over the haze of paralysing fear. Shakily, Bethany answered. "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written." The familiar chant helped to settle her nerve, even though her mind was still numb with terror.

As abruptly as it came, the Archdemon took flight and disappeared into the trenches. The beast probably didn't notice them at all. Bethany prayed she would never see it again.

The Archdemon was gone for now, but no one knew if it would come back any time. They needed to get out of here. Bethany willed her body to move, but not one muscle obeyed. Sten grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over one shoulder, heedless of her protest.

They ran like the Archdemon itself was nipping at their heels. They stopped only when they ran into a group of heavily armed dwarves in the midst of brutal melee against a large number of darkspawn.

Sten set her down on the ground and charged into battle with a gutteral war cry.

Frustrated with her own weakness and humiliated from being treated like a sack of potatoes, Bethany slung a fireball into the nearest cluster of genlocks before shooting forth a chain of lightning.

She felt much better after that.

The dwarves were of the Legion of the Dead. Those who joined all held their own funerals before they entered the Deep Roads. In a way, they were very similar to the Grey Wardens. Bethany herself couldn't see the appeal mostly because she had had enough of the Deep Roads after a month (or was it longer?) already. She missed the warm sunlight, the open sky, the sweet-smelling grass beneath her paws… that was probably the wolf in her talking. Since entering Orzammar, Bethany had not shifted at all. Sometimes she would feel her magic simmer under her skin, itching to get out. Here, she felt trapped.

"They saw Branka entered Bownammar. Never saw her cross back. I guess that's where we're going." Daylen sighed, looking equal part resigned and hopeful. Bethany supposed she should be happy to learn that they were not chasing ghosts after all. The knot in her stomach disagreed. They were about to storm a dwarven fortress overrun by darkspawn. Borrowing the words of Marian, _what could possibly go wrong_?

Crossing the bridge required some careful planning. For the first time, Bethany saw the darkspawn move as a cohesive military unit rather than a mob of mindless monsters. They had arranged themselves into ranks by their attack range - melee fighters at the front, bolters in the back to provide cover, and two ogres at the flank to rush whoever crossed over.

Despite the organized resistance, they had one thing the darkspawn didn't have - four battlemages. They rarely had the chance to set up large area attacks because friendly fire was oftentime more deadly than enemy fire. And this was one of the rare instances where they could let loose. Using the narrow bridge as a choke point, the warriors held off attacks at the front while the mages took their time chanting.

Daylen began his opening salvo by setting off an explosion of clashing glyphs that paralyzed a large swath of darkspawn. Bethany's tempest and Morrigan's blizzard surged in a violent storm, freezing and shattering everything caught within. Bubbling with Wynne's rejuvenation spell, Bethany's magic sang joyously in her chest. When the storm finally calmed, the melee fighters quickly moved in and picked off what was left.

That night when the they shared a camp with the Legionnaires, the look the mages got from the dwarves were one of awe. Bethany privately admitted that she was quite proud of herself as well. The only person who was not entirely pleased was the Qunari. After the demonstration of how deadly mages could be, Sten's mistrust of them was only tempered by his pledge of arms to the Wardens. When asked, he described in vivid details how mages under the Qun were treated. No one was impressed.

"I wasn't aware the Qunari hate their mages so much" Wynne said in distaste, horrified by the maltreatment.

"We do not hate the saarebas." Sten clarified. "We pity them, and we honor them. They serve the Qun selflessly as instruments of destruction. Their sacrifice is considered the highest virtue."

"If chaining and collaring them like animals is your way of honoring them, then I loath to see what true hate looks like under the Qun." Morrigan bit back.

Sten seemed irritated by the retort. "The Qun does not teach hate. The Qun is order. We do what is necessary."

"What's the point of sewing their lips shut, then?" Morrigan asked.

"It is to prevent them from chanting dangerous spells." Sten had the deadpan expression that said he was addressing a dimwitted child.

Morrigan's golden eyes flashed dangerously.

Daylen jumped in to mediate before yet another debate about mages could spin out of control. Bethany still remembered what a disaster it was last time. Especially now, having an argument in enemy territory while everyone was on edge would be monumentally foolish.

The Legionnaires did not follow them further into Bownammar, but they promised to guard the bridge to secure their escape route. It was a touching gesture.

Bethany changed her mind as soon as they entered the former dwarven city. Bownammar was overflowing with darkspawn. More likely the Legionnaires did not want to follow them in because they knew it was a death trap. The narrow hallways and winding corridors forced every encounter to be at an uncomfortably close range. Even Morrigan seemed harried. Having learned combat magic from Daylen, Bethany was actually doing better than the witch. Wynne, on the other hand, was struggling and had to rely on Zevran and Leliana to run interference.

The darkspawn came at them in a never ending stream. In fact, they attacked with increasing ferocity the deeper they went into the city. Bethany wasn't the only one who had noticed. Whatever it was in the bowl of Bownammar had both Wardens agitated.

"Is it the Archdemon?" Leliana asked.

Alistair shook his head unsurely. "No. It's… something else. I've never felt this before. I don't understand."

"Like a song. A different one. Not the Archdemon. A lullaby." Daylen said.

"Whatever that is, it's probably darkspawn. We'll just have to put an axe in it." Oghren grunted. He seemed to be on edge as well.

The Mabari perked up and barked to get people's attention. It had sensed something. Bethany tensed when an eerie voice floated through the doorway in a breathy chant.

"A poem." Morrigan muttered. "I mislike it."

"That voice sounds familiar." Oghren hurried after it. The rest of them followed.

It wasn't darkspawn, but it was close enough. This naked, filthy female dwarf had mostly turned into a ghoul already. Weeping wounds and inky veins sprawled across her ashen skin while wispy patches of sandy hair plastered limply over her gaunt, blotchy face. The dwarf chanted the wretched poem to herself while picking over a pile of rotting flesh like… like it was _food_. Recoiling with revulsion, Bethany froze when she stared into sunken eyes swirling with madness.

The woman, Hespith, recounted Branka's heinous crime against her own house in her pursuit of the legendary Anvil wrought by Paragon Caridin. Bethany shuddered as she learnt of the unspeakable torment the darkspawn had put them through; her nightmares were guaranteed to be exponentially worse from now on with those imageries permanently seared into her brain. _Andraste's mercy_. Bethany desperately wished her family had been fortunately enough to be granted a quick death. The look of shame on Oghren's face was confirmation enough that Hespith's accusations were true. Betraying one's kin to this fate was unforgivable. They had spent a month in the Deep Road looking for Branka. Did they really want someone who was obviously deranged to appoint the next king? Was all that effort a pointless waste?

They ran after Hespith after the questions became too much. She led them to something so monstrous, it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Broodmother.

 _Kill it with fire_ was the first thought racing through Bethany's mind. She wasn't alone in her panic. Her fire, Morrigan's ice, Wynne's rock, and Leliana's arrows all flew at the head of _that thing_ as fast as their reflexes allowed. Death would be a thousand times better than being turned into _this_.

 _Maker, the smell…_

Slimy tentacles sprouted through the ground and lashed at them like whips. This bulbous, misshapen freak opened its maw wide and screeched at a pitch that made her ears ring horridly.

"It's calling for reinforcement!" Daylen shouted.

Darkspawn poured into the nesting chamber from the tunnels behind them. With melee fighters tied up at the front to fend off the tentacles, the ones in the back ranks were exposed. Leliana stowed her bow and switched to daggers and slashed savagely at hands that tried to grab her from behind.

Bethany's blood ran cold when she realized what was happening. The darkspawn were trying to take the women alive. "Over my dead body!" The terrified words left her mouth in a squeal. She stunned the handful of darkspawn closing in on her with a blast of telekinetic force before freezing them solid.

Swarms of darkspawn crashed against them like waves breaking the shore. They endured the neverending onslaught while desperately hacking away at the broodmother. Corpses were piling high, and the very ground turned slick and hazerous from pooling black blood. They held out long enough to kill the broodmother before they were overrun. The dwarven woman who used to be called Laryn was finally freed.

Bethany gagged from the stench and threw up noisily on the floor. Oghren handed her his hip flask with a look of sympathy. She took a hurried mouthful and gasped as the burn of strong liquor punched her right in the stomach. She thanked him and watched the dwarf downed the rest of the drink in one breathe.

They could not leave this accursed place fast enough.

The first thing Branka did when she saw the party was to cut off their only way back. Morrigan almost attacked the dwarf in a fit of rage but Daylen managed to stay her hand. On some levels, Bethany thought, the Paragon was even more repugnant than the broodmother.

They fought their way through Caridin's traps, all the while knowing they were forced to do Branka's dirty work for her. Whatever this Anvil was, it was apparently valuable enough for the Paragon to sacrifice her entire house to obtain it. Bethany would never understand people like her.

Inside Caridin's workshop, they were greeted with the most unlikely sight of Paragon Caridin himself, in the form of a metal golem. Even though he was well over a thousand years old, he recognized Shale as an old friend: Shayle of House Cadash. Bethany wasn't the best at discerning golem expression, but she would say Shale looked absolutely gobsmacked to learn that she was once a squishy dwarf.

Caridin told them what the Anvil's true function was and bade them to destroy it before it could be misused again. This was when Branka made her appearance. At this point, Bethany had had enough of her lunacy. Oghren looked devastated but resigned when Daylen sided with Caridin.

If Branka had the capability of creating her own control rods to order the golems about, why had she needed to create an army of darkspawn to run at Caridin's traps? It would forever be a mystery to Bethany. The only explanation she could think of was that the obsessed dwarf was completely insane. Still, it was a tragedy that could have been avoided if people would simply stop obeying a Paragon's crazy commands. And Bethany believed Branka was a complete nutcase. The woman had to know she stood no chance against them. Still, Branka attacked.

Oghren cried as his wife expired in his arms.

Caridin crafted them a golden crown to be given to whoever the next king shall be. The ancient Paragon could not care less about the current state of dwarven affairs. After Daylen smashed the Anvil to useless rubble, Caridin jumped into a river of lava with a peaceful smile on his face.

At the bridge, the Legionnaires gawked at them like they were legends made flesh. Bethany supposed they were. With the broodmother slain and the darkspawn culled, the Legion could retake Bownammar once again. On top of helping the dwarves reclaim their lost fortress, they had also brought back a crown bearing Paragon Caridin's seal. A feat such as this would be immortalized on the Wall of the Memories.

When Daylen spoke to the Legionnaires of the broodmother, one heavily tattooed female dwarf pulled out a small glass flask tied to a cord of leather around her neck. "We call it the Quiet Death. All the women were issued one when we joined. We are dead already, we will not be used."

The journey back to Orzammar was still agonizingly long, but a lot less nerve wrecking compared to when they first set out. With Caridin's crown in their possession, they now traveled with a sense of lightness and certainty they didn't have before. Bethany still couldn't wait to throw herself out under the open sky, but she wasn't twitching at every noise in the dark anymore. By now, she had learnt to rely more on her ears - soft clicking sounds meant giant spiders, low chirping could be either deepstalkers or nugs, but wet gurgles meant only darkspawn.

Unsurprisingly, the guards at the gate all gawked at them like the Legionnaires did when they made it back to Orzammar. They must have looked quite the sight after months in the Deep Roads. Not even stopping to get cleaned up at the Grey Warden barrack, the party went straight to the Assembly while holding Caridin's crown in prominent display.

Three days later when the party was fit to travel again, the newly crowned King Bhelen sent them off with a cart load of fresh supplies along with a solemn promise to mobilize the dwarven army immediately to aid the Wardens.

When they exited the gate of Orzammar, spring had come.

x-x-x

"I've been meaning to ask. Why did you pick Bhelen? I thought you didn't like him." Bethany asked as she walked beside her cousin.

"I didn't. I picked Bhelen because he is young and has a lot to prove. If he reneges on his promise to the Grey Wardens, he will lose his crown." Daylen said with a shrug. "Besides, he strikes me as the type who would do whatever was necessary, even if it means to break traditions. We could use someone like him in a Blight."

Oghren made his opinion known. "You're being polite. Harrowmont will eat nug shit if someone tells him it's tradition. We dwarves have been squabbling for centuries over nothing while our kingdom turns to dust. Something has to change. Bhelen is an arrogant little prick but he is no Harrowmont. I say you've backed the right bronto in the race."

"Let's hope so, because…"

Whatever Daylen wanted to say was interrupted by an arrow flying at his head. It narrowly missed him and landed on a tree trunk next to Leliana. The bard's new pet nug Schmooples squealed in fright and ran to Bodahn's cart for shelter.

"Ambush!" Alistair shouted as they all bursted into action.

After a very short skirmish, four men were trussed up like boars to be spitted over a slow fire. Their attackers were too well armed to be bandits - they were assassins.

"Who sent you after the Grey Wardens?" Zevran tapped the business end of his dagger lightly at a sweaty man's throat.

"I've no idea whatcha talking about. We're here for the redhead."

"Why would anyone be after me?" Oghren seemed puzzled.

"Not the dwarf. The other redhead."

"Me?" Leliana paled. "I think I know what this is about."

"You know someone is trying to kill you?" Bethany asked, outraged on her friend's behalf.

Leliana nodded with a frustrated sigh. "Marjolaine."

The captive's throat bobbed nervously. "Dunno her name. Some highborn Orlesian broad. Dark hair. She's in Denerim. I can tell you where."

"I'll most definitely pay her a visit." Leliana's eyes were dark with anger. "But for now, we have more important matters to tend to."

Leliana did not come out of her brooding mood for the rest of the journey to Redcliffe. Bethany spent more time scouting to make sure they were not caught unaware again. Her effort was for nought because they were ambushed in the middle of the night by a group of shrieks. Sten and Barkspawn were on watch so they were the ones to raise the alarm. The rest of them rushed out of their tents in their night clothes.

During the scuffle, the women's tent was torn into ribbons by a trio of shrieks and then accidentally set on fire by Bethany. No one was seriously hurt in the aftermath, but Bethany was pretty upset with herself even though Wynne and Leliana didn't blame her at all. Fortunately they were only two days away from Redcliffe. Comparing to their living conditions during the Deep Roads expedition, sleeping on the hard packed earth next to the campfire was no hardship.

They didn't have time to kick loose the mud caked on their boots before they hurried off with Arl Eamon and his knights towards Denerim. Growing up as a peasant farm girl, Bethany had never ridden a horse before. To find herself suddenly seated on one with little warning was a bit nerve wracking. Leliana was the only one amongst them who looked comfortable atop a horse. Even Morrigan looked a little queasy. With mounts, their journey to Denerim was dramatically cut down from three weeks to ten days. Her sore butt did not appreciate the time saved as much, however.

Denerim was still as unpleasant as Bethany remembered. With so many nobles congregating for the Landsmeet, the mood of the city was a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety. While they waited for the last few nobles to arrive, Leliana was able to track down Marjolaine's hideout. Suspecting a trap, Daylen insisted Leliana not go alone even though the bard was reluctant of getting other people involved in her own problem. It took some persuasion, but at the end Leliana allowed Daylen and Bethany to tag along. Her cousin negotiated for Zevran to be brought in as well, just in case.

Marjolaine was, for lack of a better description, _utterly Orlesian_. The bardmaster might be older, yet she was still painfully beautiful. Her hair remained a luxurious, glossy raven black that was almost blue. Bethany recognized the arrogant tilt of her chin and the the imperious curve of her full red lips - and it became quite obvious where Leliana had learnt to wear that same expression. One thing that was starkly different between those two were their eyes. While Leliana's eyes were just as sharp and intelligent, it never held the glint of cruelty as Marjolaine's did.

"Leliana! Aww, so lovely to see you again, my dear." Marjolaine greeted her sweetly.

A look of cold disgust rolled over Leliana's features. "Spare me the pleasantries, I know you're…"

Marjolaine interrupted Leliana's hostility by complaining of Ferelden's wet dog smell. Both Daylen and Bethany were unimpressed by the casual insult.

Leliana did not want to play Marjolaine's game. She confronted her old mentor and asked bluntly the reasons for sending assassins after her. Marjolaine's answer was so twisted, it was difficult to take it at face value.

"You think I left the chantry because of you?" Leliana was incredulous. "You still think I have some plan for, for _revenge_? You are insane. Paranoid. Not everything is about you."

Marjolaine sneered down her nose at Leliana as they traded barbs, each verbal exchange more vicious than the next. Bethany squirmed at the uneasy feeling raising at the back of her neck. If Marjolaine really thought Leliana was as dangerous as she made out to be, she would not dare confront her former protege alone. This had to be a trap.

"I just want to be left alone. I'm not you, Marjolaine. I left because I didn't want to become you." Leliana said with clear finality.

Marjolaine actually seemed pleased. "Oh, but you _are_ me."

"She is nothing like you." Bethany had had enough of this viper of a woman. "Leliana is a good person. And you, you are… you are an evil _hag_."

Both Daylen and Zevran snorted out loud. Leliana's mouth twitched.

Marjolaine's face contorted in unadulterated rage at the dig about her age. The perfect mask of meticulously applied cosmetic cracked around her eyes, showing a ring of fine wrinkles. "And who are you, exactly? No doubt a country bumpkin my Leliana picked up like a stray dog. Her taste for companionship has truly suffered in this backwater country."

"Leave her out of it." Leliana fumed. "This is between us."

Marjolaine's eyes sharpened in a predatory glare. "Protective, are we? I see what's going on here. You really are predictable. Then again, I'm the one who knows you best. _I made you._ "

"That's enough! Walk away, Marjolaine. Leave Ferelden. I never want to see you again."

"You were so young, so naive. I remember it well." Marjolaine was all venom, yet her voice was smooth like honeyed wine. "The look you gave me when you wounded that hart. Ah, you were like a wet kitten. Remember the lesson I taught you that day?"

Leliana bared her teeth.

Marjolaine laughed mockingly. "No? I think you do. 'Never delay the inevitable. If you can strike, strike.'"

Leliana pulled out her daggers. "You will never leave me alone, will you?"

The way Marjolaine looked at Leliana made Bethany bristle. "I suppose you have always been a good student, my dear Leliana." Said the bardmaster. At her command, half a dozen heavily armored guards burst through the doors and surrounded them from all sides.

Due to the nature of close quarter combat, the following exchange was short and bloody. Marjolaine's mercenaries were probably more than good enough under normal circumstances, but this time they were up against a band of veterans who had survived a two-month Deep Roads expedition recently.

"It's over. She's dead because of me." Leliana said quietly over the cooling body lying face up on the floor. A permanent look of surprise etched on Marjolaine's pale face; Leliana had been the one to deliver the killing blow.

"No. She's dead because of herself. This is not your fault. You told her to walk away." Bethany said, worried by the sag of Leliana's shoulders. Her friend looked so drained by the ordeal.

"Thank you. I… I need some time to myself. We… will talk later." Leliana said, and fled the room.

Daylen patted Bethany on her arm to get her attention. "Don't worry. She just needs some space. Leliana is strong, she will be fine."

Zevran piped up. "And we should get out of here. I may not be Crow anymore, but I refuse to be a third rate assassin who gets caught in the same room as the dead bodies."

After they went back to the estate, the Wardens and Arl Eamon were immediately locked in the Arl's study for yet another secret meeting. To pass the time, Bethany had been picking through the Arl's library. She almost jumped out of her boots when Leliana approached her from behind while she was engrossed in a book on King Maric's rebellion.

"You're back! How are you feeling?"

Leliana gave a noncommittal shrug; the smile she wore was wistful and fragile. "Better. I am fine, really. I simply have a lot on my mind."

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Bethany offered.

Leliana's smile faded into a troubled frown. "I can't get what happened out of my mind. After everything… It hurts to realize that I never truly knew her."

"Maybe you did, but you were in love. Love makes people blind."

"I knew she was cruel. I never imagined how far she would go. I convinced myself it was all part of the Game. A bard must do what she did to survive. W-what if she's right? What if we're the same? I should've stayed in the chantry."

Bethany studied Leliana's expression and felt the sympathetic twists in her stomach at the abuses her friend had suffered because of Marjolaine's betrayal. "You are nothing alike. She treated people as tools to be used and discarded. You left the chantry to help people because you cannot stand to watch others suffer while you do nothing."

Leliana still seemed conflicted. "That's not really the point. You don't understand. The peaceful life I had in the chantry was a lie. Underneath the chantry robe, I have the heart of a bard. Cloistered life _bored_ me. I enjoyed it when I watched her die. Don't you see? I don't want to be like her."

"She had wronged you terribly. I dare say I also derived much satisfaction seeing justice done."

Her reply gave Leliana pause. Bethany saw the indecision and pushed to get her point across. "So you are not suited for cloistered life in a chantry - well, that make two of us. I didn't much enjoy my incarceration at the Tower either. My magic used to scare me, but not anymore, not after seeing how much good I can do with the natural born gift from the Maker. Maybe that's why He sent the vision to you. You have both the power and the inclination to do His will."

"... I would like to believe you are right." Leliana said. And this time the smile on her face was like a sunrise.

"If I were my sister, I would tell you 'I'm always right.'" Bethany beamed.

Leliana arched an eyebrow at her reply. "But you're not Marian. What would Bethany Hawke say?"

Bethany considered her words. "I would say I have complete faith in you."

The shine in Leliana's eyes were bright and joyous. It made Bethany's heart flutter in her chest. Leliana held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Then I shall never betray your trust."

x-x-x

Queen Anora was a scheming, backstabbing bitch. Truly, Bethany could not bring herself to think any charitable thoughts regarding the current ruler of Ferelden, not after this woman betrayed the very people who had saved her from Rendon Howe's tender care.

The Wardens had picked Leliana and herself for the rescue mission - they were both human and could fight well in regular guard's armor, so blending in would be easier. Leliana had been skeptical of the mission from the beginning since the circumstance the Queen was in was a little too convenient. They should've listened to the bard's warning. Now they found themselves surrounded by crossbow-wielding guards and outnumbered four to one.

Bethany was angry. She rarely lost her temper, but her emotion at the moment was simply too raw - she was still reeling from what they had discovered inside Howe's dungeon. Watching brave Leliana curl in on herself at the reminder of her own torture really made Bethany fume with impotent rage. Focusing all her magic to a sharp point, Bethany brought her staff down with a loud crack. An explosion of force filled the room like a field of molasses, halting all enemy movement to a stand still.

Their side seized the opportunity to retaliate. Leliana's twin daggers were a blur as she danced around the room, slicing through flesh and bowstrings alike. Alistair rounded on the immobilized Ser Cauthrien and bashed her to the ground while Daylen ruthlessly cleaved the enemy mage open from collar to navel.

Bethany shouted for her companions to back away before calling down a firestorm to strike at the guards. A wave of ice and lighting followed. Swaying on her feet, Bethany leaned against her staff for support as half of the guards fell over, dead. She took a moment to down a flask of lyrium potion and immediately went back to casting, not stopping until they were the only ones standing.

"When did you become so scary?" Alistair asked, staring at Bethany with a wild look in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Bethany was more than a little hurt by Alistair's reaction.

Daylen walked up to Alistair and slapped him upside the head. The former Templar backpedaled so quickly, he practically tripped over himself. "I mean, wow, you've really improved. If you haven't stunned them all, we would've been in real trouble. Did Morrigan teach you to do that?"

Bethany huffed. "No, my father did. It's force magic - a specialty he picked up during his time in the Kirkwall Circle. I'd never really gotten the hang of it until recently."

They slipped out of the building and returned to Arl Eamon's estate without further incidents. Bethany was convinced that the look of pure shock on Queen Anora's face when they met again was because the woman had fully expected Ser Cauthrien to defeat the Wardens, and not because she was pleased by their lucky escape.

For the next few days, Bethany took great care to avoid the newest guest Arl Eamon was hosting. She had not heard of the Wardens' design for the Queen, and she had no intention of jeopardizing their plan by showing her own dislike towards the woman. However, if the sour expression on Alistair's face was any indication, Bethany had a sinking suspicion what they had in mind. In her opinion, poor Alistair deserved someone much better than the daughter of Teyrn Loghain.

Speaking of Loghain, Bethany's opinion of this old war hero had plummeted to the very pit of the Dead Trenches ever since they unraveled his slavery operation within Denerim's alienage. Financing a civil war during a Blight must have been expensive, especially when his rivals were in control of most of the country's grain supplies. Elves or not, selling Ferelden citizens into slavery was an inexcusable offense. How could Loghain possibly justify consorting with Imperium magisters - agents of a hostile foreign nation - for _gold_? Bethany couldn't wait for the Wardens to confront him. She wanted to see the look of shame in his eyes, if he still had any.

She wanted to see him bleed for abandoning Marian and Carver to die.

x-x-x

A/N: Fun fact: my personal favorite of all the underground cities is the Blackreach. Sorry Dragon Age, but Skyrim did it better. Also, rating changed to M because of the broodmother. I honestly think broodmother is the best and worst thing BioWare has ever created. Bravo.


	4. Heroes

Chapter 4: Heroes

On the morning of the Landsmeet, the party assembled at the hall of the estate, every last one of them armed and armored for battle in case their bid for Alistair to take the throne did not pan out. For this momentous occasion, Daylen had donned the Warden Commander's armor set that the Dryden's had salvaged from Soldier's Peak. Proudly displaying the double-headed griffin emblem across his chestplate, Daylen looked every inch the legendary Grey Warden of old.

Alistair, on the other hand, had donned the late king's golden armor they had reclaimed at Ostagar. With his brother's shield and his father's blade strapped to his back, Alistair cut quite a heroic figure standing next to his Warden brother. Bethany suspected this controversial fashion choice must have been the result of a lengthy argument that Alistair had lost.

Loghain looked ready to spit fire when he saw the Wardens at the Landsmeet. "Ah! And here we have the puppeteer! Tell us Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through their would-be-prince?"

"Neither." Daylen said confidently. "Your paranoia is their best weapon. All they need to do is keep their borders closed and let the darkspawn have us. Without the Warden's ability to slay the Archdemon, the Blight will reduce Ferelden to ashes."

"Lies! Sheer arrogance!" Loghain shouted. "The Grey Wardens betrayed the King at Ostagar! I'll have you executed for treason!"

"Then the Grey Wardens must be terrible at playing traitors if we were almost killed to a man while you got away with your own units intact." Daylen laughed harshly. "Which one is more likely - the Grey Wardens conspiring with the Orlesians to get themselves all killed in battle, or the valiant Hero of River Dane being too prideful to admit his role in the defeat at Ostagar that he had to resort to finger pointing?"

Loghain's face purpled with indignation. "You Wardens got Cailan killed by poisoning his mind with grandiose tales of griffins and heroics. I saved half of our army!"

But Daylen's argument had sent a wave of doubt ripping through the nobles at the Landsmeet. People were nodding while eyeing Loghain with clear disdain. It appeared the Teyrn did not have many true friends at court. Some of them must have harbored an old grudge against the peasant-turn-noble for rising above his station.

"So you claimed." Alistair was having none of that. "Cailan was king, but he appointed you as the general of the entire army, did he not? As the commanding general, honor demands you take responsibility of losing the battle. I had thought you were merely a faithless traitor. Now it appears you're an honorless coward!"

"You know nothing! I have bled for this country. A snot-nosed brat like you doesn't get to lecture me on honor and sacrifices!" Alistair's attack on his personal honor had hit a nerve. Loghain was shaking with rage now, and once he completely lost it in front of the nobles, they would win.

Daylen smirked. "But being honorless is not your only crime, Teyrn Loghain. We've discovered your slavery ring with your Tevinter business partners. Tell us; what's the punishment for consorting with hostile foreign agents for profit? Do you think we will let you get away with selling Fereldan citizens into slavery?"

The nobles didn't like that one bit. They demanded Loghain to explain himself. The answer he provided was so pitiful, no one was buying it.

Alistair shook his head at Loghain in disgust. " _That's_ your excuse? Because their living conditions are so bad, that slavery is mercy? Whose fault is that?! _You_ are the regent of the Crown, your duty is to protect Ferelden, to improve her citizens' lives, not sell them to a foreign nation for profit when you failed at your job. You're not taking responsibility for anything! I'm seeing a pattern here."

" _Death before slavery_ , Teyrn Loghain. As a veteran in King Maric's Rebellion, you of all people should understand that." Daylen tutted at the old general.

The two Wardens had clearly rehearsed their lines beforehand. Their breathless tag-team attack had pressed Loghain on the defensive from the get go. And Loghain was a dour military man, not a charismatic orator who could spin tales endlessly. They listed out every transgression meticulously, each accusation crafted to attack his personal honor, thus whittling his credibility down to nothing. They rounded off the long list of accusations by pointing out that the Blight was the true threat to Ferelden, and that Loghain's selfish power grab had harmed them all.

Loghain's effort to turn the table by accusing the Wardens of kidnapping his daughter ended up blowing up in his face. Queen Anora strolled into the hall and accused her own father of betraying her late husband to his death by quitting the battlefield, that he had locked her away to seize power to the throne. If the situation of a daughter turning on her own father weren't so tragic, Bethany would have laughed at the incredulous look on Loghain's face.

Under siege from all sides, Loghain called for unity, relying on his history of aiding King Maric to end Orlesian occupation to sway the nobles. His plea fell on deaf ears. One by one, the nobles cried out their supports to the Grey Wardens. Loghain was alone and friendless.

"Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?" Foaming with fury, Loghain's control on his temper snapped. "None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have!"

"Teyrn Cousland did, and you slaughtered his entire family! Arl Eamon did, and you had a blood mage poison him! You are the traitor here!" One of the noble shouted down from the balcony. Bethany recognized her. She was the younger sister of the Templar they had rescued from Howe's dungeon.

"How dare you judge me!" Loghain raged.

Daylen gave him the final push and asked him to settle this dispute honorably. With all the nobles as witnesses and the Grand Cleric as the mediator, Loghain accepted the terms of the duel.

Alistair stepped forward.

And no more words were said. The crowd backed away to give them the space for the duel. Alistair drew his sword. From the way Loghain's face twitched it was obvious he recognized the blade. The same blade King Maric had wielded fighting side-by-side with his best friend, now an instrument to deliver justice to the same man.

The outcome was predictable. Alistair was younger, stronger, faster; he was simply better at single combat in every aspect than an old and tired has-been. The killing blow was merciful and quick.

"All hail King Alistair!" Daylen clanked his gauntleted fist loudly against his chestplate.

The crowd cheered. The former queen was allowed to attend her father's funeral service at the chantry, and later to inherit Gwaren as its new teyrna. But for now, Anora was temporarily placed under house arrest. Arl Eamon's knights escorted her out of the palace without meeting any objections from the nobles.

Arl Eamon then announced that since all the nobles were already gathered for the Landsmeet, King Alistair would like to use this opportunity to marry his betrothed, Bann Alfstanna Eremon, the late Teyrna Eleanor Cousland's niece. Since neither the groom nor the bride looked at all surprised, Bethany assumed they had planned this out in advance. No wonder Alistair seemed sour back at the Arl's estate. Being paired off like a stud horse had not been his life plan.

"He should really thank me. The fertility potion I've brewed should keep his bride satisfied, regardless of his non-existent experience." Morrigan commented with a dry chuckle.

Bethany stared at the witch with wide-eyed disbelief. "You _what_?"

Morrigan looked exceptionally pleased with herself. "Ferelden needs an heir to the throne to maintain stability. I'm helping."

Bethany palmed her face.

x-x-x

The days following the Landsmeet went by in a haze. While the Wardens worked closely with the nobles to consolidate troops and resources, the companions were left to their own devices. During this supposed down time, Wynne had free reign over Bethany's training since Morrigan seemed completely absorbed in her own secretive project.

By this point, Wynne had more or less given up on making a healer out of Bethany. Instead, the Senior Enchanter introduced her to the complicated art of rune. Rune was a branch of arcane that required years of dedicated study - the major reason why all the best rune masters amongst the Formari were Tranquils. However, without the ready access to reference books, Bethany's study was slow to start. Not to be deterred by the limitation, Bethany spent many hours watching Sandal work his magic. Her journal was quickly filled with drawings and diagrams, and every night she went to bed with more questions than answers.

Not surprisingly, Wynne was exasperated by Bethany's nonconventional learning method. Truly, it must have been frustrating to see one's student keep seeking instructions from other teachers (a hedge witch with stunted social skills, and now a slow-witted dwarf boy incapable of normal speech). Feeling quite guilty about the unintentional snub, Bethany consulted Leliana on what she should do. Leliana reasoned that Wynne would feel happier about Bethany's success, regardless where she received instructions. Bethany was not completely convinced by her optimism.

Two weeks after the Landsmeet, Riordan, the Senior Warden they had rescued from Arl Howe's dungeon, reported back from his scouting mission with grave news. The Archdemon and its army of darkspawn had been spotted in the Wilds. The aimless swarm in the south had regrouped under the Archdemon and their next destination looked to be Denerim. Worse still, a portion of the army had splintered off in the direction of Redcliffe where most of the troops and supplies had gathered. If Redcliffe were sieged, all the resources they had fought so hard to raise would be stranded instead of being put to use here in Denerim. Their second battle against the darkspawn army would be lost if half of their fighting force were boxed in from the start.

Arl Eamon proposed the Wardens to send in a small relief force to hold off the assault while the allied troops retreat towards Denerim at top speed. Daylen had a different idea.

"How fast can you fly?" He asked Morrigan.

"With fair wind, I can reach Redcliffe in two days." Morrigan answered quickly, understanding what Daylen was trying to ask. But in the end, she shook her head in objection. "Alas, the spring gust is foul this time of year. This trip to Redcliffe and back may take well over a week. You must have me here if you are to face the Archdemon. I will not risk missing the battle."

"Can we not send a raven and be done with it?" Alistair asked, puzzled by Daylen's request.

"We will send out ravens to all the Bannorns to reroute their troops to Denerim regardless. If we get them to march as soon as possible, some of them might reach us before the darkspawn do. But a simple letter to Redcliffe is not enough. We need to find out which route the darkspawn is taking so the troops there won't be delayed. We can't risk them being cut off on open field. It would be a slaughter." Daylen explained.

"The priority is the Archdemon. I hate to say this, but we need to stay here to organize defense. The ballista at Fort Drakon are our only hope of grounding the flying friend. Besides, there are too many civilians here at the capital. The evacuation alone will demand all our time." Alistair frowned unhappily. "Maybe if we delegate to Arl Eamon and Alfstanna to organize the defense, we can still make it to Redcliffe before the Archdemon arrives?"

Morrigan huffed in annoyance. "Need I remind you all I'm not the only shapeshifter here?"

All eyes were on Bethany. She tried not to squirm at the center of everyone's attention.

"Can you make it?" Daylen asked gently.

Bethany considered the request. She had only shifted for short periods of time to scout. Staying in flight for days was a challenge she had never considered before. "I'm not sure."

"You can. 'Tis within your capability." Morrigan said with certainty.

Bethany believed her. "If Morrigan says I can, then I'm willing to try."

"Are you sure, child?" Wynne interrupted. "The demand on your focus and stamina will be extreme. You will be going alone, with no one to help you."

Leliana also interjected. "Send me instead. I'm a decent scout, and a fast rider. Give me two horses, and I can reach Redcliffe in a week and be back in another."

"Not in this weather, not when the rain has turned most roads into mud." Zevran said, and earned a withering glare for his trouble.

"It's alright." Bethany made up her mind. "I can do this. I may not be as fast as Morrigan, but I'm your best option."

That ended the debate. After a hasty meal, Bethany took off at full speed. She soon realized what Wynne meant when she mentioned how taxing it would be on her focus. The first time her attention wandered after hours of flying, she promptly shifted back to human form. Falling out of the sky shook the last drop of sleep out of her. She took short breaks only when she couldn't lift her wings, and even then she dared not close her eyes to catch a nap. When she finally made it to Redcliffe three days later, she could barely stay on her feet.

Armed with the freshest intel from Bethany, the allied troops took the North Road to avoid the bulk of the darkspawn swarm and retreated in good order. It would take them three weeks to reach Denerim, less if they could force march. The villagers in Redcliffe, on the other hand, were evacuated north by boats. Bethany hoped Knight-Commander Greagoir had enough sense to take care of the refugees when they showed up at the Tower dock.

After a good night's rest, Bethany stayed at Redcliffe long enough to stuff down some food and water before she took off towards Denerim. The return trip took longer, but it was a little easier since she could afford to take more breaks. Still, when she finally returned to the estate, she had to be carried to bed. When she left the bed three days later, the horde was a week's march away.

Fort Drakon was designated as the stronghold to stockpile their supplies and men while the rest of the city was mostly abandoned. The streets were trapped with tripwires and explosives; they knew they could not fend off the darkspawn in a siege, but they were going to make them pay through the nose to occupy the city. This tactic allowed them to buy time until the allied troops arrive. More importantly, this allowed them to protect the ballistas at Fort Drakon.

The bulk of the Bannorn army reached Denerim before the horde did. King Alistair and Queen Alfstanna rode out with Arl Eamon to meet them by the South Gate. Alistair came back to the city alone. Under the Queen and Arl Eamon's command,the Bannorn army would lie in wait outside the city until the allied troops arrive for a pincer attack.

At the first day of the battle, the Archdemon was nowhere to be seen. The Denerim city guards garrisoned atop the city walls were able to repel the sieging darkspawn. Their luck did not hold since the Archdemon showed up the next day and easily destroyed their defence by breathing fire down on the defenders. The gate was breached in short order. Content with letting its minions sack the city, the Archdemon then flew up high into the sky, well out of ballista range.

It took the horde two days to move through the trap-filled streets. By the time the darkspawn reached Fort Drakon's walls, a white signal flare could be seen hanging at the western sky.

The allied troops had arrived.

Moments later, an answering red flare went up from the south. The Bannorn army was ready to charge.

At the signal, Morrigan and Bethany once again combined their ice and lighting and raised a raging storm from atop the Fort's battlements, clearing a bloody path in front of Fort Drakon's gate. The Wardens, their companions, plus a contingent of Denerim guards used this opportunity to charge through the rank of disorganized darkspawn. Their goal was to rendezvous with the troops so the fresh fighting force could help the Wardens slay the darkspawn generals that had led the assaults on the city.

Their plan would have gone smoothly, if the Archdemon had not come back. They had managed to clear out the West Gate to allow the allied troops into the city, but their army almost routed when the dragon circled back and scattered their force.

Riordan shouted for them to kill the generals before taking off in a dead sprint after the Archdemon. Bethany had no idea what his plan was, but she had no time to ponder. A fresh wave of darkspawn poured into the break in their formation and Bethany found herself all of a sudden within melee range. It was nigh impossible to locate her friends in this chaos. All she could do was cast as fast as she could and hoped her mana never ran dry.

Fortunately she didn't have to hold out for long. Sten and Shale found her in the middle of the bloody mess. Bethany supposed it was easy to spot a mage by her colorful spell works. Between her two formidable protectors, no darkspawn could touch her. It took them awhile to retake the West Gate, but their victory was not as costly as it could have been. Dalish archers had proven their worth by securing the walls and raining down death from above.

"Did you see Daylen?" Bethany asked when she failed to locate her cousin.

"The Wardens have moved on ahead. I am tasked to lead the troops here to secure the gate," Sten said.

Bethany did a quick scan of the area. Both Wardens were gone, so were Morrigan and Leliana. The rest of the companions were all accounted for. Oghren was sporting a limp that Wynne was attending to. No one else was injured.

Another wave of darkspawn crashed against their front rank shield wall. They came from the direction of the Market District, likely where the Wardens had disappeared to. Bethany suppressed the urge to go after her cousin and stayed in position. The Wardens already had Morrigan with them. She would be needed more here.

The assaults lasted through the night. After each wave, the allied troops pushed a little further into the city. Occasionally they would hear the Wardens' horn calling for reinforcement. Each time that happened, they changed from a more defensive tactic to aggressively rushing towards the Wardens' position.

"Oh, Maker! Look up!" Someone shouted in the crowd. Gasps and curses followed.

Bethany looked up and saw the Archdemon flying right at them. Its black maw opened wide, spewing purple flames into the crowd. All the mages in the army shot forth a hail of ice overhead, dampening the effect of the deadly heat, but many were still burnt alive, rolling on the ground and screaming until they were ashes. Half of Bethany's left sleeve was burnt away, her injured arm covered with painful blisters. With a practised motion, Bethany immediately downed a healing potion before the shock set in. Burn salves would have to wait because the dragon had circled back again after the initial attack, poised to annihilate them all on its second pass. It didn't get the chance to open its mouth again. Something dropped on top of the beast, making it jerk wildly and fly away. It was too far to see what exactly happened, but Bethany could guess.

She prayed that her cousin wouldn't be as reckless as Riordan.

The Archdemon didn't come back, but its soul piercing roar that almost dumped everyone on their knees could be heard throughout the city. From a good distance away, Bethany saw the beast crash land on top of Fort Drakon.

At once, both the allied troops and the darkspawn converged towards the stronghold. The intensity of the battle escalated to a fevered pitch. By the time Bethany really noticed, she had reached the gate of Fort Drakon. The entire fortress shook as the Archdemon rampaged. The Fort had been lost and retaken so many times in the same night, neither side was able to hold position. Several times Bethany had to fall back on the defensive when more darkspawn pushed into the fortress by sheer number. By the time the way to the top floor was cleared, the staircases were covered in so many corpses, she had to literally climb on top of mangled bodies to move forward.

Bethany eventually made it to the rooftop of Fort Drakon with Oghren and a group of Legionnaires. Some of the companions were already there when she arrived to join the fray. Knowing that her magic would do little against the Archdemon's thick hide, she focused on a group of darkspawn located nearby a still functional ballista instead. The dwarves with her caught on and charged forth to lend a helping hand.

The first shot missed. The Legionnaires operating the ballista cursed loudly while making adjustments. The second shot punched deep into the Archdemon's hind leg. And all of a sudden, they were set upon by another wave of darkspawn. By the time they repelled the attack, the ballista had been badly damaged by an emissary's fire. The sorry sight almost made her want to repeat the colorful curses coming out of Oghren's mouth.

Out of ideas, Bethany's attention turned to the metal spike sticking out of the Archdemon's thigh. _What would Marian do?_ She thought, and an idea came to her.

Gathering magic in her palms, Bethany lifted her staff and carefully aimed a bolt of lightning at the spike. The Archdemon's pained screech from the attack was loud enough to make her ears ring. All the mages on the rooftop saw what she had done and those who could cast lightning joined in with glee. Their combined lightning strikes bypassed the dragon's tough hide and caused serious damage. Even at a distance, Bethany was gagging from the acrid stench of the beast's literally boiling blood.

"Move back!" Daylen shouted. His order, combined with the thrashing beast's wild attacked, was enough to make most people obeyed.

Alistair didn't move from his spot.

"Enough, Alistair. Move back!" Daylen shouted again, but Alistair was determined to ignore him.

Sten was there to make sure Daylen's order was followed. The Qunari tackled the Fereldan King to the ground, heedless of Alistair's frantic objection.

Daylen dropped his shield and held his sword with both hands. Blood erupted along the Archdemon's serpentine neck as his blade bit deeply into its tough flesh. The beast's death throe almost knock him over a couple times, but he kept on slashing away until a blinding light exploded out of the beast's head where Daylen's blade had stabbed through its skull.

When the light went out, the Archdemon lay dead.

The allied troops cheered. The remaining darkspawn horde scattered and fled. Daylen's sword slipped off his slack hands. He closed his eyes and sank to the ground.

"You bastard! I told you not to be a hero! You can't die! It should've been me! It's not fair!" Alistair fought off Sten and scrambled towards Daylen.

Bethany felt her insides froze. This couldn't be real. What did Alistair mean?

The secrecy. Alistair's strange reaction every time someone spoke of a Warden's duty and sacrifice. Bethany finally understood. The Warden who slayed the Archdemon was destined to die.

"Cease your unsightly tantrum." Morrigan sighed with a hint of disgust. Bethany frowned at the witch and noticed the faint smile on her pale face. A flicker of hope fluttered in her heart at the sight.

Alistair snarled at Morrigan.

Daylen groaned. "Can you please not shake me so much? Unless you want me to puke on you. I'm injured, damn it."

Alistair's mouth dropped open in shock. "But, but, you're… How?"

Daylen grinned tirely at his Warden brother. "Magic."

Bethany laughed at her cousin's cheeky reply as tears of joy rolled down her face. She turned to talk to Morrigan and saw the witch shifting into a raven and flying away.

That would be the last time Bethany saw her friend in a very long time.

x-x-x

A whole month after the Battle of Denerim, the city was still in rough shape. Clean up was messy and time-consuming, and it was a miracle that there had not been an outbreak of plague following the battle.

News trickled in that the remaining darkspawn had fractured into small warbands terrorizing the countryside. Anxious to go home and defend their lands, the nobles quickly left with their armies instead of lingering in Denerim to help with the reconstruction. Daylen called the period of chaos after the Blight _The Thaw_. Alistair called it _The Migraine_. The poor guy would have torn all his perfect hair out if not for his wife helping him cope with being the ruler of a country.

Speaking of which, Alfstanna had turned out to be an excellent choice as queen. She was an experienced leader with a good relationship to the chantry. Getting pregnant right after being married to Alistair also earned them a great deal of support from the nobles. It also helped that Alistair seemed to genuinely like her. They were both good people; Bethany could see Ferelden flourish under their rule.

But as the days went by, Bethany's mood steadily worsen. Wynne had gently reminded her a few times that perhaps it was time for Bethany to return to the Tower. Daylen would be leaving for his new post in Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine to establish a new Warden Order. Unless she wished to joined the Wardens permanently, she had no excuse to follow her cousin like a lost puppy.

Bethany had killed enough darkspawn to fill ten lifetimes. She would choose being locked away in the Tower over patrolling the Deep Roads in a heartbeat. Still, the urge to fly away and never come back was strong. Knowing that she could do just that and no one would be able to stop her made it even harder to restrain herself.

At the end, her salvation came by the way of Leliana. The bard had been summoned by Mother Dorothea of Valence, and the invitation had been extended to Bethany as well.

Bethany wanted to go. How could she not? Even though Leliana had not shown her any affection beyond the platonic, her own hopeless crush had not lessened in any way. The prospect of spending more time together was irresistible.

"You are answering a summons from a Revered Mother. No Templars will stop you. Quite the opposite, I believe they are honorbound to assist you, if you so require." Leliana said with a grin, and it was the last push Bethany needed to jump at the offer.

Before she left, Wynne cautioned Bethany to never forget her status as a Circle mage. Puzzled by the rather peculiar warning, Bethany bid her mentor goodbye but didn't think too much of it. She would come to regret dismissing Wynne's concerns so carelessly a few years down the road.

Alistair gifted her a wickedly sharp dagger he jokingly called his most prized cheese knife and bade her to stay safe. Bethany promised to visit again once his child was born. Daylen gave her the Spellward amulet he had spent a fortune on and asked her to write often. Bethany was only too happy to oblige.

Zevran didn't give her anything, but he told her where to find Captain Isabela to secure a safe passage to Orlais before he left the city.

The ride across the Waking Sea aboard the Siren's Call was the beginning of a new exciting adventure. Isabela, Maker bless her promiscuous heart, was equal parts hilarious and infuriating. The pirate queen loved to say outrageous things just to make her blush. Bethany's face had almost burst into flame when Isabela showed her a book called Hessarian's Spear and tricked her into reading the vulgar summary out loud in front of Leliana.

Also, she could really do without another conversation about diddling a Sister in Leliana's presence. Bethany was certain Isabela was doing that on purpose. It didn't help that she had to sleep on the same bed as Leliana - not that she was complaining, it was just nerve wrecking.

They were dropped off at Cumberland a week after they departed from Denerim. Although Bethany had traveled in her youth with her parents and had seen several large Fereldan cities, she was blown away by the sheer size of Cumberland. They stayed in the city for a couple days to do some shopping at Leliana's insistence. Apparently it was considered rude to visit a Orlesian chantry in shabby clothes. The blue dyed velveteen robe felt very different from the rough spun wool she was used to wearing. To be honest, Bethany felt quite out of place. It was almost a relief when they left.

Their destination was a small Orlesian border town called Val Chevin. Leliana hired a wagon, and it took them two days to reach Val Chevin from Cumberland. The road was well-travelled and safe, but Bethany couldn't help but feel antsy. It took her awhile to relax when she was so used to jumping at shadows. They even got to spend the night in a roadside tavern instead of next to a campfire.

Valence Cloister was nothing like the Fereldan chantries Bethany had seen before. Everything here was so excessive and luxurious that Bethany feared to breathe too loudly, let alone touch anything. Why was everything here gilded in gold and draped in expensive red silk? When Mother Dorothea bade her to sit in one of the delicate-looking chairs with intricate weaves of golden vines and silver flowers sprawling across its surface, Bethany almost refused.

Mother Dorothea was not quite what Bethany had expected. From Leliana's story, she had learnt that the Mother was an exceptionally compassionate and devout woman. However, it was not until Bethany had spent some time with the Mother herself, did she realized how effortlessly charismatic the woman was. It was almost alarming how easily she got Bethany to relax around her. Case in point, she found herself spilling her life's story before the first round of tea was finished.

Unlike a typical member of the clergy, Mother Dorothea showed great empathy towards mages' plight. Later when the Mother requested their personal help to aid her in her bid to ascend the Sunburst Throne, Bethany agreed immediately. After spend the better part of last year helping the Wardens defeat the Archdemon, Bethany could not stand the thought of going back to the Tower and withering away in meaningless captivity. This was her one chance to better her fellow mages' lives, to work with the system to facilitate meaningful changes. Of course she was going to seize it with both hands.

The fact that Leliana had also agreed to take up the role as Mother Dorothea's spymaster was a definite plus. Although Bethany was unsure what a mage inexperienced in the Game could be of use, both Orlesians assured her that her help would be invaluable.

In the beginning, their confidence in her seemed overly optimistic. For the next few months after she joined Mother Dorothea's camp, Bethany was at most a glorified bodyguard for the Mother's new top agent as Leliana/Sister Nightingale maneuvered the dangerous battlefield that was the chantry politics.

It didn't take long until Bethany realized how intertwined state politics was with chantry hierarchy. Leliana once explained that a well-connected Revered Mother in charge of a wealthy chantry in Orlais was easily more powerful than the Grand Cleric of Ferelden. Plainly put, the power of the clergy stemmed from their backers in court. Orlesian court, to be exact. The Empress herself, being an open-minded reformer, greatly tilted the Orlesian nobles towards her parallel of the chantry reformer, Mother Dorothea's side. Leliana's job, therefore, focused more on ensuring a smooth transition once Divine Beatrix III died of old age than to out-maneuver Mother Dorothea's rivals. It could be anytime now, since the Divine had been languishing in her sickbed for years already.

Their first major hurdle came in the winter of 9:31.

Starkhaven's Circle Tower was burnt down as a part of a brutal coup d'etat that usurped the ruling Vael family. As the Vael's were historically a very close ally to the chantry, a number of important members of the clergy were deeply concerned by the event. While publically the culprit was a mercenary group called the Flint Company, mage involvement could not be ruled out. Leliana and Bethany were both dispatched to Starkhaven to investigate as soon as the news arrived.

There, at the bank of Minanter River, next to the blackened remain of the former Circle Tower, Bethany met Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast for the first time.

x-x-x

If mages were to compare Templars to man-eating wild bears, then Seekers were thought to be as terrifying as acid-spitting alpha wyverns that ate wild bears for breakfast.

Seeker Cassandra left a surprisingly good impression on Bethany. The woman was scary in her own way, but Bethany would say that the Seeker was a lot more reasonable than most Templars she had met. She even called her by her name, instead of growling "mage" in a derisive tone. More importantly, Cassandra did not even bat an eye when Bethany explained that she was sent here by Mother Dorothea, as if a mage working for the chantry was a commonplace occurrence.

The Divine's Right Hand then explained that she was sent here for the same purpose - to determine the mages' involvement in the coup. So far, the evidence suggested that the two events were not directly related. About half of the Starkhaven mages actually stayed willingly and submitted to Templar custody immediately after they fled the burning Tower. A handful more were captured in Starkhaven soon after, but a good portion of them were seen fleeing the city. All the City States in the Free Marches were already put on high alert to watch out for fugitive apostates.

"The fire was the work of powerful blood magic," Cassandra said, frowning deeply at the flame-licked stones of the broken Tower.

"So it was," Bethany agreed. The familiar cloy stink of blood magic was hard to miss.

"Then you are dealing with a cult of maleficarum. I would check Kirkwall first. That place seems to be cursed."

Bethany watched Cassandra spin on her heels and marched away. "Are you not coming to Kirkwall?"

Cassandra paused long enough to answer her question. "No. My work here is done. Chasing down apostates is the duty of the Templar and the Seeker Orders. As the Right Hand, my priority is to the Divine. I have what I came here for, now it's time for me to go. Good day." And then she was gone.

Later that day, Bethany briefed Leliana on her side of the investigation. Leliana had spent her day inside the palace of Starkhaven, wheedling information out of the disorganized court. Their next best lead, the Vael family's most legitimate heir to the throne, was the former Prince's youngest son. Sebastian Vael had been serving in the Kirkwall chantry as a Brother for years. Most likely he was not involved in the coup, but he might have insights on his family's enemies.

"Kirkwall again. Maybe Seeker Cassandra was right. That place is cursed." Bethany said.

Leliana studied her face with some concern. "Something is bothering you. Wait, don't you have families in Kirkwall on your mother's side?"

Bethany shrugged. "You're thinking about the Amell's. I'm afraid I don't know much. There is supposed to be an uncle I've never met before."

"Don't you want to meet him?" Leliana asked.

And say what? _Hello my rich, noble uncle I've never met before. I'm your long lost niece. You might recognize me from my uncanny similarity to your lost long sister. By the way, I'm a mage. Just like the guy your sister eloped with. Now, treat me like family and shower me with affection._

"Not really." Bethany admitted.

"In any case, I'll send a raven to Mother Dorothea right away. We'll see where she sends us next. Now we know that the mages were not involved, our focus needs to be shifted from the cause to the ripple effects. Starkhaven is the most prosperous city in the Free Marches. We must keep this region stabilized despite the coup."

They stayed in Starkhaven for another week, conducting interviews to assess the effect of the sudden power vacuum. The Grand Cleric of Starkhaven was a good friend of Mother Dorothea. With her endorsement, they were able to move freely within the city without being bothered by Templars already high-strung due to recent events. It was enlightening to interview the remaining mages. Some freely offered the names of the missing mages who were suspected maleficarum because they were angry that their home was destroyed. Bethany supposed if she had grown up in the Circle, she would have been furious about the arson, too.

Mother Dorothea's reply came, not by raven, but by courier. Leliana received one letter, but Bethany received a thick bundle of them. Puzzled, Bethany opened the one at the top of the stack and began to read.

Her startled shout made Leliana abandon her own missive to come to her side. "Is everything alright?"

"They're alive!" Bethany cried. Laughing tearily, she flashed Leliana a brilliant smile before going back to her letters.

They were all from her families. Her mother and her siblings had somehow met up after Ostagar and escaped Lothering together with nothing more than the clothes on their back. They boarded a ship in Gwaren and sailed all the way to Kirkwall to live with her uncle in poverty. During the Blight, the price of sending letters to Ferelden had become so exorbitant, they couldn't afford to send anything until the Blight had ended. After that, since Bethany didn't go back to the Kinloch Hold, she didn't know there were letters sent to her. It was not until Mother Dorothea formally requested her name to be registered under the Cumberland Circle, did those letters find a place to go. They had been forwarded again from Cumberland to Val Chevin before Mother Dorothea couriered them to Bethany in Starkhaven.

"Maker's breath! They're in Kirkwall. All this time without hearing from me, they must have been worried sick!"

"Then it's decided. We must go to Kirkwall right away." Leliana was all smiles.

The trade route between Starkhaven and Kirkwall had been long established. By now, Bethany had gotten used to riding, so it took them barely a week to reach the City of Chains.

Kirkwall was as depressing as its epithet suggested. A heart of the slave trade during Imperial times, its architecture of harsh lines and stratified layers fully reflected its ugly past. Sculptures of the Old Gods and murals of crying slaves still dominated the city scape. The dreaded Gallows sat in an isolated island inside the harbor, forever a grim reminder that a mage's place was no better than that of a slave's.

Bethany would notice more of this later. In her first visit to Kirkwall, she was paying very little attention to her surroundings. Just by being in the same city as her family had her walking on clouds.

"Did they tell you where they live now?" Leliana asked.

Bethany shook her head. "Not really, there was no return address. Marian only briefly mentioned it's a hole in the wall close to the alienage. She wanted me to send my letters to a local tavern call The Hanged Man in Lowtown instead. Something about not trusting my uncle."

After some debates, Bethany followed Leliana's suggestion and went to the Hanged Man by herself while Leliana went to interview Grand Cleric Elthina at the Kirkwall chantry. The Hanged Man was easy enough to find since it was a popular drinking hole in Lowtown. The tavern was quite busy when Bethany arrived in the early afternoon. A small crowd had gathered in front of the fireplace to listen to a clean shaven surface dwarf telling tales.

"... you'll never guess what we found down in the Bone Pit." The dwarf paused for dramatic effect. " _Dragons_."

The crowd gasped.

"Big, leathery, fire-breathing beasts. I thought I was done for. But Hawke, ha! You know what she did? The mad woman grabbed the nearest spider pod - I'm talking about those giant man-eating spiders the size of a Mabari hound - and shoved it down a dragon's throat. All hell broke loose after that. You can all agree it couldn't be comfortable gagging on a ball of sticky spider pod, not even for dragons. Now imagine the pod burst open in your mouth and hundreds of ravenous spiderlings crawl all over your face. Never seen a dragon looking so terrified in my life, and I've seen some shit."

This story had to be an embellishment, even though it was undoubtedly entertaining. Marian was all kinds of awesome, but fighting a nest of dragons while armed with nothing but a spider pod? It simply couldn't be real. Bethany found an empty spot at a table nearby and sat down. She wanted to hear more.

"That's one dragon. You mentioned dragons, plural. What happened to the rest of them?" Bethany asked.

The dwarf send her a roguish grin. "So you noticed. Excellent attention to details. I'm getting there." He raised his beer mug as a hint.

Bethany waved down a waitress to send him more drinks.

"Here is a safety tip for all of you. When you see one spider pod, chances are you'll probably find more spiders in the same cave. When you see pods lining the walls like oil lamps, you better get the hell out of that damn cave. But of course this rule doesn't apply if your name is Hawke."

Bethany leaned forward with great interest.

"See, when she took the job, Hawke knew it was going to be messy, so she came prepared. While we didn't expect dragons down in the Pit, spiders on the other hand, were a given. We went down there with bandoliers of tar bombs. Let me tell you, this stuff is nasty. You're not gonna get out if you step in it. Better yet, it catches fire like nothing else. I've been told pirates use them regularly to sink ships. When you combine tar bombs with dragon fire in a confined space? It's a miracle I still have both eyebrows. With the stuff Hawke usually gets up to though, next time I may not be so lucky." The dwarf laughed and put his mug down. It was his cue that he was done for the day, and the crowd dispersed after his story had ended.

"You must have more stories." Bethany prompted.

"Oh yes, I do." Said the dwarf with glee. "And you'll be surprised how many of them involved my eyebrows almost going up in flames. Off the top of my head, Hawke's legendary bad luck had turned a simple fetch job into a bloody clash with Tevinter slavers, a rescue mission into a complete slaughter, and a missing person request into a serial killer conspiracy."

It was unreasonable, but Bethany felt a pang of loss at missing out on her sister's life. "It sounds like you and Hawke are very good friends."

The dwarf gave her a funny look. "Good friends, yes, but not _friends_ , if you catch what I mean. Hawke is a fine woman. Alas my heart already belongs to another." He said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply…" Bethany held out a hand. "I'm Bethany. I didn't catch your name, storyteller."

"Call me Varric." He shook her hand. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"I'm new in town."

"Of course you are." Varric said, staring at Bethany a little longer than necessary. It didn't escape her notice that his eyes briefly swept up to the plain-looking staff strapped to her back. "You sound Fereldan. What brings you to Kirkwall?"

"I'm looking for someone." Bethany couldn't decide if she wanted to come out and say she was looking for her sister. What was she going to say? _By the way, the mad woman Hawke in your story was actually my sister. Now bring me to her._ No, it would be too awkward.

"Then you've come to the right place. There are a lot of Fereldans here in Kirkwall, most of them got here a while ago to escape the Blight. Did you come from Denerim? The Waking Sea is choppy this time of the year. It couldn't have been an easy journey." Varric seemed interested.

Bethany shook her head. "No, I'm not from Denerim, and I've been in the Free Marches for a while. I was in Starkhaven last week."

"Starkhaven, you don't say." For some reasons, mentioning Starkhaven was the wrong thing to do because it put Varric on guard instantly. "Well, I wish you good luck on your endeavor. I need to take a nap and sleep off the drinks." He yawned and walked towards the rooms in the back.

"Wait!" Without thinking, Bethany grabbed his sleeve to stop him from walking away.

Varric flinched at her touch.

All of a sudden, Bethany understood what the problem was. Varric must have known about the escape blood mages from Starkhaven and suspected her to be one of them.

"Look, Sunshine. You're lovely, but I'm not interested. Like I said before, my heart already belongs to another. Now if you'll excuse me."

"It's not what you think. I'm looking for Hawke."

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you are. Hawke is a busy woman, if you… shit. Worst timing ever."

Bethany turned to see the group of people coming into the tavern. Marian was here.

"Bethany!" Someone else was faster than her sister. While Marian stood frozen on the spot with her eyes locked with Bethany's, Isabela had rushed in and encircled her in an enthusiastic hug. "Look at you! I thought you were in Cumberland. What are you doing here?"

"No no no. No touching! She is strictly off-limit! Isabela, keep your hands to yourself!" Marian none too gently pried the bewildered pirate off Bethany before taking Isabela's place. "Maker's breath! You're alive!"

Varric spoke up. "Alright, now I'm very confused. What's going on?"

Bethany waved at him. "Hi, I'm Bethany Hawke. I'm Marian's little sister."

x-x-x

"I should've known. You and Leandra had the same face. I've only seen your mother once, but still." Varric seemed quite embarrassed about the mix up. He had quickly ushered everyone into his room in the back for some privacy.

"Huh. Now that you've mentioned it. I thought Leandra looked familiar." Isabela said, grinning at the Hawke sisters. "You two don't look much alike though."

"Your hair is the same shade of black. It's very pretty." Said the quiet elf girl who had following Marian into the room. Bethany almost didn't notice her.

"I take more after our father." Marian said, still not letting go of Bethany's hand. "All that aside, Bethany, why did you ignore our letters? And how do you know Isabela?" She lowered her voice. "I've heard rumor about some unrest at the Tower during the Blight. You're my sister. No matter what happened, I will protect you."

Bethany squeezed Marian's hand to reassure her. "I didn't run away, if that's what you're asking. It's complicated. Long story short, I was transferred to the Cumberland Circle after the Blight. Now I work as a consultant for Revered Mother Dorothea in Val Chevin. I'm allowed to travel."

Isabela tossed her head back and laughed. "You're going to gloss over the part where you aided the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight and defeated the Archdemon?"

Bethany ducked her head down, a little uncomfortable to be in the spotlight. "Daylen is the hero. I didn't do much."

"That's amazing! You have to tell me more." Marian'e blue eyes were shining with excitement. "Oh! We must tell mother you're back. She has been crying every day. We thought you were dead."

"You thought _I_ was dead?" Bethany was incredulous. "I thought _you_ were dead! I saw what the darkspawn did to Lothering and Ostagar. How did you survive?"

The grin on Marian's face was so big, it almost split her face in half. "Would you believe me if I say a dragon swoop down and rescued us from the darkspawn?"

Bethany stared at her sister. "If the dragon's name is Flemeth, then yes."

Marian's jaw dropped open in shock.

"And here I thought Hawke is the crazy one in the family." Varric grumbled.

"Speaking of which, where is Carver?" Bethany asked, and got an eyeroll from Marian.

" _The Rose_ , probably. He was in an awful hurry. I don't get why he still goes there after the 'Exotic Wonder From The East' tried to kill me with blood magic."

At Bethany's confused look, Isabela clarified helpfully, "think _The Pearl_ , but without the greased nugs."

Bethany scrunched up her face in distaste. "I didn't need to know that."

"You haven't told me how you knew Isabela." Marian reminded her.

Isabela spoke up cherrily before Bethany could. "Oh, we met at a brothel in Denerim."

"Isabela!" Bethany turned beet red.

"What? It's true." Isabela pouted. Meanwhile, Marian was trying to set the pirate on fire with her eyes.

Varric jumped in to mediate before the conversation derailed again. "Why don't we all calm down and start from the beginning?"

x-x-x

Bethany was about to set Gamlen's hair on fire when Carver came home and interrupted her.

"Whoa! What's going on… Bethany?!" Carver was about to rush over to breakup the fight but he stopped when he noticed the ball of flame in her palm.

"He sold our family for gold!" Bethany's face was red with outrage.

"To indentured servitude, not to slavery. There's a big difference. And it's only for a year. What's done is done. We're free now. You can let it go." Marian put out the fire and gently tugged her back a few steps away from their terrified uncle.

"Why do you still live here? We were simple peasants in Ferelden, but we didn't live in squalor either. Mother shouldn't have to put up with this." Bethany said, still feeling quite put out.

Carver spoke up. Her twin had shot up half a head taller since she last saw him, and his features had grown sharp and sullen. "Why do you care? You have no idea how hard it was for all of us. You weren't here. Mother cried about you every day and you didn't even care to write her back. You have no right to come in here in your fancy clothes and tell us how to live our lives."

"Carver!" Marian snapped at him, which only earned her a rebellious glare as a response.

"That's enough, all of you." Mother raised her voice.

Gamlen found his courage to speak after mother had reprimented the siblings. "I'm not taking in more freeloaders. Especially not an ungrateful brat like you." He stabbed a finger angrily at Bethany's direction. "Threatening a man in his own house with dangerous magic! I should report you to the Templars."

"You will do no such thing!" Mother's eyes were glowing like lit coal. The sight was terrifying to behold. "You harm my children, Gamlen, I will make you regret it."

Gamlen gulped fearfully and wilted under mother's glare. It was clear he was bluffing because he was too cowardly to get the authorities involved. After all, harboring apostates was not a small crime in Kirkwall, and he had been exploiting Marian for a year to make money off her talent as a mage. It make Bethany ill thinking about how much worse it could have been if Gamlen's creditor had been in a different business than smuggling.

"We still need to move mother out of here. And it seems to me, uncle Gamlen would also like that very much." Bethany said.

Marian winced. "Not gonna lie, money is tight right now. The gold we've been saving has been earmarked to pay for a promising venture. If everything goes well, we can afford to do a lot more than just move out."

"What kind of venture?"

"It's…"

Carver interrupted sternly, "that's none of your business. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn't you be in the Tower?"

Bethany was not impressed by Carver's unwarranted hostility. By the Maker, her twin had always been sour, but this was excessive. "I'm here to see my family, you ass. I've only gotten all the letters a week ago. Before that I thought you had all died in the Blight!"

"I'm hurt by your lack of confidence in me, Bethany. You should know it takes more than a few darkspawn to do me in." Marian said.

"Wait, does that mean you're not staying?" Carver asked with a frown.

It was difficult to hide the bitter edge of her reply. "I'm a Circle Mage, Carver, I have no choice. I go where I'm told. So no, I can't stay."

Mother held her hand tightly. "But you can visit from time to time. And you _are_ going to write us back from now on, isn't that right?"

Bethany smiled at the warning tone. How she had missed her. "Yes, mother."

x-x-x

A/N: We're officially in DA:II timeline now. I'm very happy I've managed to wrap up DA:O in three and a half chapters. Speed run!


	5. All That Remains

Chapter 5: All That Remains

Marian loved her very much, Bethany knew this well, but it was still quite embarrassing to be shown off by her proud sister to the rest of her friends like she was the shiniest treasure in the world. Especially with Carver lurking in the background, frowning impatiently at the spectacle.

Aveline was nice. Bethany was grateful that the older woman had helped her family escape Lothering. The fact that Aveline still watched over her family even after she was promoted to the position of guard captain made Bethany admire her more.

Fenris was very quiet around her. He seemed to relax a bit after Marian mentioned she was currently in the Cumberland Circle. Bethany could see that the escaped Tevinter slave mistrusted mages in general, so she took care to stay far away from the elf.

Anders was… hard to describe. Bethany had heard stories about his legendary escape attempts when she was in Kinloch Hold. At first glance, the healer seemed like a genuinely caring person, much like father was. Yet, there were moments where Bethany would feel unreasonably afraid around him. Anders was uncomfortable when the topic of Grey Wardens came up. Even though he claimed that the reason he had deserted was because they made him get rid of his cat, Bethany doubted this was true. Daylen knew better than to deprive a man of his beloved pet.

Isabela and Varric, she had already met. They were the usual type of people Marian liked to hang out with - funny as hell and sharp as a tact. Merrill, the world's most harmless blood mage on the other hand, was a surprise. But judging from the way her sister looked at the little elf mage, perhaps not so much. It was unfortunate that Carver seemed to see Merrill the same way Marian did. He had never won this kind of competition before, and Bethany was pretty sure he was not going to win this time, either.

Just when she thought her sister's friends couldn't get any stranger, Marian brought her to the chantry and introduced her to Brother Sebastian Vael.

"Wait, your friend is the Prince of Starkhaven?" Bethany was aghast.

"Hey, if you can be friends with the King of Ferelden, I can be friend with a Prince, too." Marian whined.

Bethany paused. It was easy to forget Alistair was king after suffering through so many 'too much cheese' nights by the campfire. "Good point."

"My father was the Prince, Lady Hawke. I am but a simple Brother." Sebastian said.

Bethany laughed. "Alistair was promised to the chantry as a child and trained as a Templar. Later, he devoted his life to the Wardens, and now he serves as Ferelden's king. The point is, you never know, Prince Sebastian."

Sebastian's eyes glinted with good humor. "Good point. A compromise then; until the day the Maker deems me worthy of the title Prince, you may refer to me as simply, Sebastian."

"I can agree to that, if you would call me Bethany instead of Lady Hawke."

Marian clapped. "Bravo! That was smooth. Where in Thedas did you learn to do that?"

Bethany wrinkled her nose. "Orlesian court," she admitted with a wry grin, trying to block out the memory of the awkward conversation with the turgid Comte Boisvert at one of the gatherings in Val Royeaux. That was her first time being called a Lady, and it had taken her awhile to wiggle out of it. Though she had since learnt how to do it with less stuttering. Leliana still joked about her clumsy attempts. But then again, most people were clumsy compared to Leliana's grace.

"Give me a break," Carver snorted.

"Hey, no one forced you to tag along. Go home if you're planning to be difficult." Marian said, clearly not amused by her brother's attitude.

"Fine. Take her side. You always do."

Marian was losing her patience. "There are no sides! Unlike you, Bethany wasn't trying to pick a fight."

" _I'm_ the one picking a fight? _She's_ the one who walks around like she has any right to be here."

Marian's eyes flashed in anger. "Carver! She is our sister."

"Please, can we not fight inside a chantry?" Bethany asked, but she was ignored as per usual. They never listened to her when their tempers flared.

"Yeah? I don't remember having a sister who abandoned us in the Blight. Didn't you hear her? She hangs out at courts with nobles and royalties now. She doesn't need us poor peasants anymore."

Marian was not putting up with Carver's pettiness. "That's a load of crap. You're just jealous. Bethany doesn't hang out at court for shits and giggles. It's her job. She earned that by aiding the Wardens during a Blight, by fighting a bloody Archdemon at the Battle of Denerim. We were at Ostagar, Carver. You of all people should remember how terrifying it was drowning in a sea of darkspawn. Everything she has now, she has paid for with blood and sweat. You're being ridiculous."

Carver didn't say a word. He spun on his heels and stormed off.

"He hates me." Bethany said quietly as she watched her twin walked away.

"He doesn't hate you. He is an idiot." Marian sighed. "You see what I have to put up with? I hope he grows out of it soon. I don't remember being such a difficult drama queen during my rebellious phase."

"Oh no, you were never a drama queen. But I remember father complaining about you beating up boys and stealing kisses from girls." Bethany gave her sister a hug. "I love you, Marian. Never change."

Marian laughed.

x-x-x

Mother Dorothea's letter came the next day. They were being summoned to Halamshiral for a time sensitive mission. Before she left, Bethany handed Marian a pouch of coins and would not take no for an answer. "Get mother out of uncle Gamlen's place. Being cooped up in that rathole is not doing any favours for her health."

Marian peered inside the pouch and whistled. "Bethany, that's a lot of gold."

"I do get paid for my job. It's only right I help out. I'll send my mails to the chantry, that way uncle Gemlan can't open them without permission."

"Once the expedition works out, the money situation should improve by a lot. At least, I hope." Marian sighed.

"Be extra careful, Marian. The Deep Roads are dangerous. I don't care how stinky and stuffy it is, you need to cover every inch of your skin with oiled sheets. Don't let their blood touch you. And…"

"I know, I know. The taint is deadly. That's how Aveline's husband died. I won't make the same mistake."

Bethany bit her lip, frowning worriedly at her sister. "I know you feel like you have to do this, but you don't. I've been to the deepest parts of the Deep Roads with the Wardens, and the stuff I've seen are still giving me nightmares. Whatever you do, don't let the darkspawn catch you. They take women, and they… and they… they _turn_ them."

Marian gawked at her like she had sprouted hornes. "What do you mean, they 'turn' them?"

Bethany took a deep breath and continued. "If you must go, only bring men. Do NOT bring any other women down to the Deep Roads. Hide a phial of the deadliest poison you can find on your person. Drink it if they take you. Please. Promise me."

"You're saying I'm better off dead than being captured by darkspawn." Marian sounded faint.

"Yes."

"Shit. Now I'm afraid to ask, but I also really want to know."

Bethany grimaced. "Don't ask me. Ask your friend Anders, he was a Warden. Tell him 'broodmother' and watch his reactions. That should give you a clue how dead serious I am."

"Fine, I believe you. I promise I won't let the darkspawn take me. Is that good enough?"

"Thank you."

When they arrived at the dock, Leliana was already there waiting patiently. Although it wasn't necessary, Marian had insisted on sending her off. Obviously her sister had wanted a word with Bethany's chantry handler, probably to make sure Bethany was treated fairly.

"Marian Hawke, it's been a long time since Lothering. You look well." Leliana spoke first, smiling cordially at her sister as they approached.

"Sister Leliana. I believe this is my first time seeing you out of your chantry robe. Can't say I'm surprised; I'd always imagined you'd look fabulous in leather."

Bethany shot her sister a scandalized look. Why must Marian flirt with every woman she met?

Fortunately, Leliana didn't seem offended. "It's more practical to travel in sensible clothes. Chantry robes are not made for riding or fighting."

"Interesting you should mention that. Do you foresee a lot of riding or fighting in the future? Is that why Bethany's mage robes are reinforced with leather and lined with chainmail? Chantry politics must be deadly if both of you are dressed for war."

Bethany palmed her face. She loved Marian, she really did. But by the Maker, her sister could be just as infuriating as Carver sometimes.

Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Is this where you threaten me to treat your sister better than the chantry's attack dogs? I'm not a mage-hating Templar, Marian Hawke. I'm Bethany's friend."

Marian's eyes narrowed at the reply. "My mistake. It's just so easy to generalize when the chantry's jackboot is designed to kick in mage heads. I worry about my little sister, you know. She is always so trusting."

Leliana's laughter was light as a bell. "Then you should have nothing to worry about. Your little sister has many powerful friends who would kill to keep her safe. If you must know, you are not the only one who had threatened me over Bethany's safety. Nor were you the scariest one."

That was news to her. Was it Daylen? Or maybe Alistair? But neither of them could be called scary. Could it be Morrigan? Bethany could see the witch being terrifying when the situation called for it, but she couldn't see why Morrigan would bother to do so.

The grin on Marian's face was showing way to much teeth. "Well then, I'm glad we're all on the same page."

Bethany had had enough of the overprotective sister routine. Maker's breath. Could Marian and Carver not be on the two extreme ends of the sibling friendliness spectrum? "Come on, Marian. If Leliana had not found me a job with Mother Dorothea, I would be locked in the Circle Tower right now. Leliana has been nothing but kind to me. You don't have to intimidate her. She already treats me well."

Marian looked a little wounded by her mild rebuke. She gave the bard one final suspicious sideway glance but eventually relented. Bethany couldn't really tell what her sister was thinking, but the way Marian sulked actually reminded her a lot of Carver.

x-x-x

The next few months went by quickly. During her guard mission in Halamshiral, Empress Celene's court enchanter, Madame de Fer, invited Bethany to visit Montsimmard Circle, after her familial relation to the Hero of Ferelden had made the rounds in the court's rumor mill. Bethany supposed that Senior Enchanter Vivienne's interest in her was probably due to her connection to notable figures rather than her charming personality. Still, Leliana had urged her to go. Building relationships with influential people inside the Circle could only benefit Bethany's cause, Leliana had reasoned. So reluctantly, Bethany left for Montsimmard on her first solo diplomatic mission.

Inside the ancient castle decorated with rich pink marbles and vivid azure paint, mages of the Montsimmard Circle lived like idle scholars. The Templars here conducted themselves more like polite doormen than ill-tempered jailors. When asked, Vivienne seemed dubious of Bethany's personal experience on how the Ferelden Circle operated. Bethany had to explain in excruciating detail about supervised yard time in the sun, overcrowded dorm rooms, no locks allowed for personal trunks, and random inspection for contraband.

At the end of her tale, Vivienne concluded that the Circles in more civilized part of Thedas operated in more civilized manners. Bethany wanted to tell the woman where to shove her civilized opinion, but she managed to refrain. It was sad but true that most Fereldan held higher opinions regarding their dogs than their mages.

When Bethany reported back to Mother Dorothea at Val Royeaux, a letter from Marian was waiting for her. The Deep Roads expedition had turned out fruitful, and they would be able to buy back the Amell estate for mother and move out of Lowtown. The price was Carver's future. Her twin brother had been infected by the taint during a bloody skirmish, and he had to join the Grey Wardens to stay alive. Marian's letter was overly optimistic and purposefully vague. Mother must have been devastated to have yet another child taken away from her.

While her work prevented Bethany from visiting her family in Kirkwall, she didn't hesitate to use the new contacts built in Montsimmard to get in touch with the Orlesian Warden headquarters. Since the Warden who took in Carver also belonged in the Orlesian chapter, Bethany was able to find her brother's current status right away. It had almost been too late when they rushed Carver back to the Warden fortress. Fortunately his brother's constitution won out and he survived the Joining by the skin of his teeth.

Carver's next letter to her was actually quite polite, almost apologetic, in fact. After informing her that he was alive and well and was glad to have joined the Wardens, he confessed that he was envious of Bethany's adventure while away from family obligations. His close brush with death during the Deep Roads expedition must have rudely forced some perspectives through his thick skull.

Bethany herself would not have chosen to be a Warden, but Carver seemed thrilled to wear the blue. It hurt a little to know that her twin was happier on his own than having his sisters around. Perhaps it was for the best. As a Warden, Carver had now gained a noble purpose in life. He never had to worry about being held back by his mage sisters again.

In the winter of 9:32, a letter from Daylen was couriered to her at Denerim during her visit to see Alistair's infant son Duncan. It was surprising to hear that her cousin had relinquished his command at Vigil's Keep after the worse of the Thaw was over, but Bethany almost fell out of her chair when she learnt of the reason why.

Morrigan was with Daylen's child when she vanished after the battle. Daylen was unable to go after her right away because duty bounded him to his role as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Now that the realm had stabilized, and a new Warden Order established, he was finally free to follow his heart. In the letter, Daylen mentioned an ancient elven artifact called the Eluvian, and that he was closing in on Morrigan's location somewhere in the Dragonbone Wastes. He then apologized for his selfishness and warned that he might not be able to send words for a long while.

To Bethany, her cousin's letter read like a heartbreaking confession of a desperate man. It was difficult enough to track down someone who had been in hiding for over a year, let alone a powerful mage who was determined to disappear. But what could she say? Were she in Daylen's shoes, would she not have done the same? Her cousin was a faithful, devoted man who was madly in love with the mother of his child. He would search all corners of Thedas just to find a hair on the witch's head.

The year of 9:33 passed in a tensed blurr. Divine Beatrix III's health was failing fast, and three separate assassination attempts had come uncomfortably close to prevent Mother Dorothea, the best qualified candidate by far, from ascending the Sunburst throne next. The former bard had dived deep into politics not only to shore up support, but also to repeal a flurry of hidden blades coming at the Revere Mother's back. On one hand, Bethany understood the necessity of fighting fire with fire. On the other hand, she could barely stand to watch her friend sinking deeper into the shadows. Perhaps it was a blessing that their busy schedules meant Bethany barely got to see Leliana at all.

As tension mounted, Bethany's role had also changed from a specialized field agent to one of Mother Dorothea's most trusted bodyguards. Meanwhile, no more visits to Kirkwall was possible, not while all the high ranking chantry officials were recalled to Val Royeaux to anxiously await the Divine's inevitable passing. So instead, she wrote letters.

Marian had moved mother out of uncle Gamlen's hovel to a small apartment near the merchant's guild in Hightown immediately after she had returned from the expedition the year before, so at least Bethany wasn't worried about their living conditions anymore. Their latest struggle was now against the inefficient bureaucracy that was the Viscount's office. They had the gold and the right to reclaim the defunct Amell estate, but apparently the leader of the city was too busy with important state matters to bother with what was considered a petty property dispute. Their petition had been sitting in a pile of paperwork for over a year before they received a notification for a ten minute audience in four month's time.

While they waited for the all important audience, Marian didn't waste any time. She had started preparing for the eventual takeover even before she had gotten the official seal of approval from the Viscount's office. Evicting unscrupulous elements that had taken over the long list of farms and businesses that were part of the estate was easy, but sorting out the messed up accounts required a delicate blend of cunning and business knowhow. Fortunately, even though Marian had no clue where to start, her good friend Varric was an expert in this field. What was most surprising was how much help mother was able to provide, given her training in estate management during her youth.

Even more frustrating still, after they finally had that meeting with the Viscount, they still couldn't move back into the estate right away. The previous occupants who lived there had completely wrecked the place. Marian had to spend even more gold to hire contractors to renovate. By the time they moved in, it was near Satinalia, and the last stack of gold from the expedition was spent.

Divine Beatrix III passed away in her sleep on the third day of Wintermarch, 9:34. Mother Dorothea ascended as Divine Justinia V on the ides of the same month by appointment as well as by decision of the Grand Consensus. Upon her ascension, she rewarded Leliana's loyal service by appointing her as her Left Hand. Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker with strong faith and incorruptible spirit, the Hero of Orlais, the Right Hand of the previous Divine, retained her post.

It was a little awkward at first for Bethany, a mage, to continue working as the Divine's bodyguard since it meant she had to work in close proximity to a decorated veteran Seeker. It didn't take long for Bethany to realize that her positive first impression of Cassandra from two years ago was no fluke. While the Seeker was stern and solemn, she was also unfailingly competent and fair. The prickly aura she projected was merely a side effect of being a socially awkward introvert.

Cassandra reminded Bethany a bit of herself.

While her friendship with the straight-laced Seeker grew, the cracks between Leliana and herself widened despite her best efforts. At first, it started as a series of small philosophical differences. Bethany told herself that Leliana was the trained spymaster, that her friend knew best how to deal with matters of secrets and intrigues. But more and more she found herself disagreeing with Leliana's methods. Bethany understood her friend was upset that she had not nipped those assassination attempts in the bud, that the Grand Cleric Victoire should be punished for orchestrating those attacks. Using blackmail to stunt their opponent's advance was a perfectly valid tactic; but to assassinate Victorie's key supporting nobles as a means to clip her wings? This was not justice. This was vengeance.

Some times during the past year when Bethany wasn't paying close attention, Leliana had changed. It was difficult to describe the changes, other than she had hardened, somehow. Also, Bethany had a suspension that Leliana had been avoiding her for a while (and that would explain why their work schedules never seemed to line up for shared down time). She had no idea why her friend would do that, and it hurt to be kept in the dark. When she finally mustered enough courage to confront the Spymaster, a heated argument broke out. Afterward, Bethany confessed to Justinia about how ashamed she was for the hurtful words she had thrown at Leliana, specifically accusing her friend of turning into another Marjolaine. The Divine reassured her that Leliana would forgive her, but perhaps it would be a good idea to give themselves some time to cool off.

Bethany heeded Justinia's suggestion and took the next field mission at Kirkwall. The investigate into the chantry's involvement with the stranded Qunari should take a good while, long enough for Leliana to forgive her, she hoped.

x-x-x

The Amell estate felt like home, even though Bethany had never lived here before.

Mother looked radiant dressed in a noblewoman's finery. In hindsight, it seemed obvious she had never completely adapted to a life of simple peasantry. Her sister, to no one's surprise, refused to stuff herself inside a proper lady's dress. What shocked Bethany the most was finding Bodahn and Sandal working at the estate as manservants. Sandal squealed with delight when he saw her walking into the hall. Before she could get a word in, the overly enthusiastic dwarf boy grabbed her by the elbow and marched her in front of the rune-crafting station in a corner of the hall to show off his latest work.

"Enchantment!"

Bethany studied the pebble sized rune stone Sandal had pressed into her palm. The polished stone shone a muted red in the candlelight, thrumming warmly with magic.

"Bad man, boom!" Sandal said earnestly with a worried frown on his young face.

"Miss Bethany! Don't mind the boy. Sandal is just happy to see you again." Bodahn said as he gently pried his son away. "You know, I was wondering why Lady Leandra looked so familiar. Goodness me, I thought I was simply bad at telling humans apart!"

Bodahn then launched into an animated retelling of how Marian had saved Sandal's life in the Deep Roads. He was no Varric, but he was still an entertaining storyteller. Bethany was glad the two dwarves were here so mother wasn't all by herself when Marian was busy running around solving everyone else's problems. The only thing Bethany wasn't so sure about was the skittish elven servant her sister had recently rescued from the hand of a Tevinter magister. Orana seemed like a nice girl, but she constantly gave off this abused feeling and it made both Bethany and mother slightly uncomfortable. On that, Marian and Merrill assured them that the girl would get better with time, especially when surrounded by people who were nothing like her former master. She supposed they were right.

Speaking of Merrill, it was shocking to find out that her sister had asked the elven mage to move into the estate. But then again, the pair were obviously smitten with each other, so perhaps Bethany should have seen this coming. The allianage was a dismal place to live in. Knowing how protective Marian was, of course she would try to move Merrill out of the hovel she had been staying in. Regardless, the aristocrats in Hightown would surely suffer an epileptic seizure if they were to find out that there was an elf who was not a servant living amongst them like an equal. Perhaps this was why Fenris chose to squat in Hightown - just to rub it in the rich snob's faces.

Marian had the strangest look on her face when Bethany mentioned the reason why she was allowed an extended stay in Kirkwall.

"The Divine asked you to look into this?" Marian asked, her arching eyebrows slanted down in a displeased frown.

"Yes. She was concerned about the religious friction brought on by the qunari presence. We've heard rumors of people converting to the Qun. In official reports, Grand Cleric Elthina seems to have the situation under control. Justinia did not share the optimism - hence why I'm here."

Marian sat back into her chair and massage her brow tiredly. "Of course Elthina would think everything is fine. That oblivious old cow is all but living inside her pious bubble. She wouldn't notice if her own hair was on fire!"

Bethany blinked in surprise. "So there _is_ something going on between the Kirkwall chantry and the qunari."

"You don't know the half of it." Marian snorted. She then went into a detailed retelling of the chantry-qunari drama that had happened during the last three years in Kirkwall. To say Bethany was alarmed by the level of involvement Marian had gotten herself into was a crude understatement.

By the end of it, Bethany was feeling faintly queasy. "So at least one Mother and a Templar were responsible for whipping a mob of bloodthirsty zealots into a fanatical frenzy. They then kidnapped, tortured, and murdered a group of peaceful qunari delegates in the middle of a diplomatic mission. Dozens of people died, and the Grand Cleric thought everything was _just fine_? Wars have been fought for less!"

The crooked grin on Marian's face was humorless. "I thought the Arishok was having a stroke when he didn't reach for his sword to lop my head off after I delivered the news. Both the Viscount and the chantry wanted to hush this up, no surprise there. Since the qunaris mostly keep to themselves, the whole mess was essentially buried."

"They can only keep it buried for so long. This is not going to end well." Bethany sighed.

Marian nodded in agreement. "I would not have said a word to anyone else about this fuck up, either. I didn't want to be the person responsible for calling down an Exalted March on our heads. Funny how you should be the one to head the investigation. I'm starting to think the Divine might be, well, divinely inspired to send you here."

Bethany wrinkled her nose at that. "Maybe. Honestly, I didn't expect to find anything of note when I set out. I was hoping to spend some time with you and mother instead of getting neck deep in chantry conspiracy."

Something in her expression must have tipped off her sister. Marian paused to give her an evaluating look before asking gently if she was feeling ill. Unable to repress the torrent of complicated emotions she had been holding back for months, Bethany told her sister about the ugly fight she had with Leliana. But in order to give the story enough context, first she had to admit to Marian about her one-sided, hopeless crush for the last four years. That was a trial in and of itself.

Marian's handsome face pinched like she had unexpectedly bitten into a lemon. "You couldn't have picked someone with less baggage, could you? Maker's breath, a spymaster. You're asking for a broken heart, Bethany."

"I didn't ask for anything. I never have. Leliana's always treated me like a kid sister. I doubt she even sees me as a woman," Bethany said quietly, unable to hide the note of bitterness in her tone.

Marian gave her a funny look. "She is an Orlesian bard turned spymaster. Trust me, sister, she knows about your crush."

Bethany felt blood rushing to her cheeks. "Well, if she knows, then it's clear she does not reciprocate."

"But it's also clear that your affection is not unwelcomed. Even with the fight and all, you two are still good friends, are you not?" Marian flashed her a brilliant smile. "And I'm saying this not just because you're my sister. You're like me. We Hawke women are beautiful and strong, and we have the best personalities. I bet you'll notice people tripping over themselves for you if you care to look away from the spymaster."

Bethany couldn't help but laugh at her sister's antic. "Beautiful and strong, perhaps. Best personalities? Mother will be the first one to protest!"

After sending off a detailed mission scroll to be couriered to Val Royeaux, Bethany spend the next few days interviewing Marian's companions for their take on the qunari issue. Almost all of them had personal experience regarding those foreigners, but not all had very interesting insights to share.

As the captain of the guard, Aveline was frustrated more so by the Viscount's inaction than the qunari presence. The older woman asserted that the official authority of Kirkwall should have taken a more active role in sending the qunari packing instead of letting them squat at the dock like a millstone around the neck. She didn't exactly use the word 'coward' to describe Viscount Dumar, but it was heavily implied.

Prince Sebastian, to no one's surprise, was firmly on the side of the chantry. More specifically, on the side of Grand Cleric Elthina. He detested the liberty Mother Petrice and Ser Varnell took to antagonize the qunari without official sanction. However, he strongly supported Elthina's stance of inaction as if patience and piety alone could will the foreign heretics away.

Neither Anders or Fenris had much to say about the qunari, although it was difficult to get them to shut up about anything mage related. Bethany learnt that after spending twenty minutes in their presence. While Merrill had nothing constructive to contribute other than wondering how they would react if she were to tickle them, Isabela seemed almost afraid. And perhaps she was, so Bethany didn't pry too much into it once she noticed.

Varric, on the other hand, had a lot to say about the chantry-qunari conflict. "If it were up to me, I would've paid out of pocket to ship them all back to Par Vollen the first chance I got. Look at it from a businessman's point of view; it's cheaper to shell out the coins than allowing commerce to be disrupted for so long."

Bethany was not completely convinced even though the dwarf seemed certain of his own opinion. Varric was an engaging conversationalist. They had been chatting the evening away in the privacy of his room at the Hanged Man, and Bethany barely noticed the time fly by. "Surely someone from the Viscount's office would have tried that already."

"That's assuming they have people there with enough brain or spine to talk sense into the Arishok. Which obviously they don't, because the Viscount had to ask Hawke, a civilian without the authority of Kirkwall's ruling office, to do the talking." Varric shook his head in disgust before taking another sip from his tankard.

"They can still do that now. The chantry is not poor. If they want to eradicate the qunari's heretical influence from Kirkwall, someone would have done what you just suggested. No, I think there is more to it."

Varric thought about it for a moment and agreed. "You might be right. I mean, how long does it take to fix a qunari dreadnought? I'm thinking they are stranded here not for the lack of transport. You could tell, they don't want to be here anymore than we want them here. Something else is keeping them here for the past three years, and honestly, I'm a little afraid to find out."

"Wouldn't it be helpful if the Arishok just comes out and tell us why he has been camping at the dock for so long? One would imagine the Viscount bending over backward to accommodate his request if it means the city would be free of this qunari problem at last."

Varric gave her an incredulous look. "Of course you would think that 'cause it makes perfect sense, wouldn't it? But the qunari, ha! They're always on about the Qun this, the Qun that, and they don't think like we do. At this point, I'm just glad that they aren't here to wage war. They have poison gas and explosive powder. If they had the intention to invade Kirkwall, we'd all be dead."

Bethany mentally pitted Kirkwall's city guards against the qunari army, and she winced at the ugly picture forming in her mind. Having fought in one war was quite enough. Some nights she still woke up half blind, gasping at the phantom sensation of slimy fingers tearing at her flesh, the acrid stink of black blood curdling in her nose, the howling purple flames thundering in her ears. "Perhaps not now, but the longer they stay, the more likely a war will break out. Ultimately, the Viscount is the one responsible for the city. I wonder why he hasn't done more."

Her question got a sharp laugh out of the dwarf. "You're kidding me, right? Oh boy, you're not. Where do we start?" Varric poured another drink for himself before continuing. "It's an open secret here in Kirkwall, but Viscount Dumar serves only because Knight-Commander Meredith allows it. The Templar Order runs things here, Sunshine. And right now, since Grand Cleric Elthina has been preaching for tolerance and patience to the people, the Knight-Commander has no choice but to take the same stance - her priority is to keep the mages down, anyway. The Viscount is a lame duck. Forget about the city - he can't even control his own son!"

At Bethany's raised eyebrow, Varric took a swig from his beer stein and chuckled, "yup, his son is converting to the Qun. Nice boy. Bit idealistic. Not a lick of sense in his body."

Bethany was aghast at the stupidity of the Dumars. She understood why the city elves or poor refugees from Ferelden would convert to the Qun if they found no comfort in the chantry's teaching. But to think the son of Kirkwall's ruler would abandon his family in a time of need, the Viscount must have been an uninspiring father indeed. Regardless whether the son had converted out of a sense of adolescence rebellion or true conviction, his selfish action had all but added fuel to the flame that would burn the city to the ground.

With that disturbing news in mind, Bethany suffered yet another night of restless sleep filled with visions of fire and death. When mother found her in the kitchen early next morning nursing a cup of strong smelling herbal concoction to settle her nerves, Bethany lied that she had a hangover.

"Oh, where is your sister? I should have a few strong words with her when she comes home!" Mother tutted in disapproval.

"Don't blame Marian, mother. I'm a grown woman now, I'm responsible for myself. It's my own fault for drinking too much." Bethany was careful not to make her protest sound like a whine.

Mother gave her a look that make her feel like a foolish eight-year-old with her hand stuck in the cookie jar. "Well, since you are a responsible, grown, woman, how about we do something adult-like today for a change, instead of gallivanting with your friends all over town, like your sister always does, huh?"

Bethany sighed as she resigned herself to her fate. Mother's idea of behaving like a responsible adult was to visit other supposedly responsible adults. Grand Cleric Elthina was an understandable choice, but the De Launcet was a dubious one. She knew the Amell and the De Launcet had some history together, still it was awkward knowing that the Comte could have been her father if her mother had not eloped with an apostate before her wedding. Nonetheless, the Comte was a decent man, a bit henpecked, but a nice person all told. His wife and daughters - not so much. Bethany had seen enough of those banshees in Val Royeaux in her line of work to not ever want to seek them out in her leisure.

Fortunately, mother took pity on her and politely declined the invitation for afternoon tea, citing a pre-arranged meeting. Bethany was so relieved, she almost didn't care that the said meeting was with her uncle Gamlen.

"I think Gamlen actually likes it better there in Lowtown. He may not be a good man, but he has his pride." Mother said with fondness mixed in with a hint of exasperation.

"Do you visit him often?" Bethany asked. She was having a hard time understanding why her mother would want to maintain a relationship with uncle Gamlen after he had sold Marian and Carver into indentured servitude.

"Every week." Mother said, and then added without prompting upon seeing the perturbed expression on Bethany's face. "Siblings fight, my dear. Don't tell me you've forgotten how Carver and Marian used to snap at each other like two angry puppies. Gamlen has his problems, but he is still my little brother."

"I suppose." Bethany shook her head, remembering that one time Carver had nailed her braid to the bed frame as a prank. There was much biting and scratching in the ensuing fight, and father had shaved Carver's head as punishment.

Mother beamed at her sweetly as they trotted down the dusty stairs leading into the Lowtown market, her eyes shining in mirth. "Did I ever tell you the story? Back in the days when your father was courting me, Gamlen would distract your grandfather so the two of us could talk in private. Gamlen didn't approve of Malcolm, of course, but he helped out anyways because I asked."

The sun hung high in the sky in the windless summer day. Lowtown's rickety market stalls baked listlessly in the heat as the morning crowd had long scattered by the heat and the evening crowd had yet to gather. The ancient stone-paved streets were mostly abandoned, save for a mangy stray dog and a grimy urchin digging through the refuse pile in a far corner.

"Do you usually walk here alone?" Bethany asked, eyeing the expensive silk dress her mother was wearing with some concern.

"Not you too. It's perfectly safe. I've lived here for over a year, there is nothing to worry about." Mother huffed at her with obvious impatience.

"Alright, alright." Bethany backed off.

"You're just like your sister. You both worry too much. I'm not helpless, I'll have you know."

Bethany fought the urge to roll her eyes.

A man stumbled out of an alley a few paces in front of them and slumped against the wall; there was blood on his hands. Bethany tensed and grabbed her mother by her elbow. "Help!" The man gasped. His face was gaunt, and his breath was ragged from pain.

"Are you alright, serah? You're bleeding." Mother pushed her off and leaned into the injured man. "Are you mugged?"

"Yes, please help me." The man stretched out his bloody hands and waved them beseechingly towards them.

The hair at the back of her neck stood up in alarm just as a wave of dizziness hit her. Through the fog of her dimming vision, Bethany saw her mother dropped to a dead faint, right into the grinning man's arms.

 _Blood magic!_

Rage tore through her, and with it, a rush of sheer will that cleared her mind of the foul magic's influence. Bethany reached back for her staff, but instead her hand closed around the hilt of a dagger; she had left her main weapon at the estate to avoid Templar scrutiny. Snarling at the maleficar who dared to touch her mother, Bethany lashed out with a wave of telekinetic energy that sent the man crashing into an empty stall.

Although her attack had none too gently ripped her mother out of the kidnapper's reach, the woman showed no sign of waking. Bethany rushed forward, crouching protectively over her mother's limp body, and slapped her cheeks urgently to rouse her. Despite her efforts, mother remained unconscious on the ground. Blood magic was difficult to counter without using blood magic, and Bethany had no idea how to help her mother.

"You!" Bethany felt a sense of stilted fury that she had never experienced before. It ran cold and hot, and it rippled and arced like a living thing under her skin. With a snarl, she whipped her hand forward, sending a fireball hurtling toward the blood mage. The force of the attack blasted apart the stall, reducing wooden posts into smoldering tiners. Meanwhile, her target was rolling on the ground screaming in agony, trying to put out the fire that was eating him alive.

"Help! Help! Apostate on the loose!"

Bethany stopped in her track. Panicked clamor from Lowtown's inhabitants stunned her like a bucket of cold water. A small crowd of people had formed around her, terror was plain on their faces as they eyed her like they would a demon.

The blood mage screeched at her. "She is a blood mage! Look! She took my blood with a knife! Maker curse her!"

The man's outrageous accusation dazed her like a physical blow. A moment later, she found herself sprawling on the ground - while she was distracted, someone from the crowd had knocked her over the head with a rock. Bethany groaned and touched the wet patch on her head and came away with blood.

"Stop her! She is going to cast blood magic again!" Some woman in the crowd shrieked hysterically.

"I'm bleeding because some idiot hit me with a rock!" Bethany bit back with clenched teeth as she got back on her feet to glare at the crowd. Her perfectly reasonable reply was drown out by even more screeching from the crowd that was slowly turning into a mob.

"Thank the Maker. The Templars are here!"

Bethany froze when she heard the gleeful exclamation. The ring of people around her parted, showing three Templars with their swords drawn. "Surrender, apostate, or we will strike you down."

"I am no apostate." Bethany replied stiffly as she dropped her dagger to show that she was not armed. "I'm Enchanter Bethany Hawke of the Cumberland Circle, I'm here on chantry business. You are welcome to check my credentials."

One of the younger Templar snorted at her with obvious disdain. "Chantry business? Right. Then I'm the Empress of Orlais."

"Hawke?" The leader of the three, a man with a thick red goatee narrowed his eyes. "No relation to _the_ Hawke?"

"Marian Hawke is my older sister." Bethany replied coolly. She noticed with some satisfaction that more than a few faces in the crowd had suddenly blanched at this piece of information.

The Templar with the goatee frowned at her with some regret. "There are eyewitness accounts of you attacking someone with magic. Some even claimed that you were using blood magic. You'll have to come with us to the Gallows for now, Enchanter Hawke. We will have this sorted out quickly."

Bethany was indignant but resigned. The world was never fair to mages, so she really wasn't surprised. Still, she felt the need to clear up this misunderstanding straight away. "The accusation is false! My mother and I were the ones attacked by a blood mage! I had to defend us!"

"Your mother?"

Blood drained from her face when she stared wide-eyed at the spot where her mother had been. She wasn't there anymore. When did this happen? How could she let this happen?! Bethany whirled around to check where the injured blood mage was, and found the man had also disappeared. "Where did they go?" She looked around, feeling her heart galloping franticly in her throat. "That man, the blood mage I put down, and my mother - did anyone see where they go?" Bethany demanded, but nobody seemed to have a clear answer.

"That way, I think." Someone pointed vaguely at a random direction.

Bethany took one step that way before crumbling to her knees with a gasp. She knew this feeling - someone had staggered her with a Holy Smite. She glared up at the Templars and saw the mouthy one smirking arrogantly at her. "Ser Thrask has ordered you to surrender quietly. You cannot escape Templar authority, mage."

"Are you as dumb as you're blind? My mother has been kidnapped by a blood mage, you imbecile! I'm trying to save her!" Bethany shouted, appalled by the turn of events.

"Watch your mouth, you filthy mage!" The young Templar spat.

Pain blossomed across her head with a loud crack as the pommel of a sword met her skull. Bethany was dimly aware of muffled shouting and being hulled up by her elbows, but she didn't remember falling. "Tell my sister…" She mumbled, as everything melted away in darkness.

x-x-x

Bethany woke groggily. The stabbing pain in her head was making it difficult to open her eyes. "Oww, my head." She groped blindly, trying to relieve the pain by rubbing her temples, but the clinking noise stopped her. Her hands were chained. Blinking in alarm, she sat up from the cold stone floor and looked around in shock. She was in a windowless cell where the only source of light was from the small gap underneath the heavy metal door.

The cold sense of dread gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Why was she locked up? Why did she feel so drained like she had no mana left? When the memory of being attacked by the blood mage came back to her, she flew to the door and pounded at it desperately. "My mother has been taken by a blood mage! Please! Someone help her!"

No one answered. She kept at it for what seemed like hours until her throat was raw and her face was sticky with drying tear tracks. Exhausted, Bethany sat next to the door, praying with her head bowed. She prayed that someone had heeded her request to carry the message to Marian. She prayed that her sister would save their mother and make everything right where Bethany herself had failed. She prayed until she was startled awake by the noise of metal dragging noisily across the stone floor. Bethany stared dumbly at the items that was shoved through the gap underneath the door - a sorry piece of harden bread and a thin plate of watery soup on a metal tray.

The cruel reality hit her; she was a prisoner. Chained, jailed, and devoid of magic. By the flickering torchlight, Bethany noticed the wooden bucket in a corner of the dark cell - that was one mystery solved.

 _At least they feed their mages._ Bethany thought to herself grimly as she grabbed the offered food. The bread was hard enough to chip a tooth, and the soup had a foul aftertaste that reminded her of shoe polish. Bethany quietly ate it all. She would need to keep her strength up because dying of starvation would not make her situation any better.

It was difficult to tell time in the dark. She tried counting the number of meals, but she wasn't sure if they fed her once or twice a day - she was always groggy and hungry. Her incarceration was in many ways worse than her time spent in the Deep Roads. Back then she knew she was surrounded by ravenous monsters that wanted to eat her alive, but now the cold indifference somehow seemed worse. Bethany tried to wrap her head around the fact that she was condemned in solitary confinement without breaking any established chantry law. She wasn't an apostate, she had the sanction to travel. All her paperwork was current and properly filed with the chantry. The only thing in doubt was her claim that she had defended herself and her mother against a blood mage - something easily proven if anyone would bother to investigate!

When the unnatural lethargy persisted beyond the typical symptoms of illness or injury, Bethany suspected she had been poisoned. After a few days of tipping her meager meals into the bucket, the tingling spark of mana returned to her cold fingers like a blanket of sunlight. Once she gathered enough strength, she shifted into a raven and squeezed out of the cell through the narrow gap under the door. Even though she was weak from thirst and hunger, Bethany was able to fly through an open window to freedom.

Dizzy and feeble from her ordeal, Bethany couldn't stay on her feet when she shifted back to human form as she landed at the hall of the Amell estate. Her unexpected arrival startled Marian out of her chair.

"Maker's breath! Bethany!" Marian exclaimed as she hurried over. "How did you… Andraste have mercy; you look a wreck!"

"And I smell awful. I need water." Bethany whizzed hoarsely. Her throat was on fire.

Marian gave her a dry look. "I'll throw you in a tub later. You start by explaining what happened to you!"

Bethany rolled her eyes. "To drink, sister. I'm parched."

After downing a pitcher's worth of water, Bethany finally had the mental faculty to ask the next important question. "Is mother alright?"

Marian's face twisted with grief.

Bethany's heart felt into her stomach. "No. Tell me mother is fine. Marian, tell me."

"I'm sorry," was all her sister would say. She couldn't even look her in the eyes.

Bethany's world started to spin, like the time she was caught in the undead ogre's grasp. All the air was being squeezed out of her lungs. She felt like she was dying again. "This… can't be right. Where is mother?"

"... it's my fault," Marian's voice was barely a whisper. "I tried to save her, but I was too late. She wasn't… She was already dead when I found her."

Bethany's fingers curled into her robe like claws. "Please, Marian, don't try to spare me the details. Now it's not the time to be _kind_." She spat out the word like a curse, loathing herself for allowing this to happen. "Don't try to protect me from the truth. I need to know exactly how she died."

"Bethany…"

"Please. I deserve this much."

Marian let out a heavy sigh. She pulled up two chairs in front of the fireplace and gestured her to take a seat.

Necromancy. The maleficar was an escaped Starkhaven Circle Mage who had been killing women that reminded him of his late wife. The sick bastard then harvested various body parts from his victims and stitched them together to form one amalgamated rag doll to house the spirit of said dead wife. When Marian kicked down the door to the killer's lair, she was confronted by the reanimated body of the abominable creation - one that had had mother's severed head attached above its neck.

Bethany emptied her stomach noisily on the thick rug in front of the fireplace when her mind conjured up the grotesque scene of the horrible _thing_ in a white wedding dress bearing her mother's face.

"I really want to resent you for making me tell you the truth, sister." Marian rubbed her back soothingly and handed her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. "After I defeated the Desire Demon, mother was herself for just a moment, at the end. She told me she was proud of me, and she asked me to take care of you. How she had died, the desecration… I never wanted you to know. But now you do."

"I… I could've prevented this. I was right there. I tried to send you a message..." Bethany couldn't choke back a sob. She had never hated anyone as much as she hated herself right now. "No, this is _my_ fault. If I had killed him first…"

Marian's eyes went wide with shock. "What do you mean, _you were there_?"

So Bethany told her what happened, holding nothing back. On some level, she wanted Marian to blame her. It was her own failing that had resulted in mother's ill fate. If only she had been stronger, or if she had not allowed the Templars to interfere, mother would had been alive.

By the end of the tale, Marian looked angry enough to breathe fire. To Bethany's astonishment, her sister had interpreted the event as one where the Templars were entirely at fault. "So that's where you've been for the past two weeks. Bethany, I swear, I didn't get any message from you. Hardly anyone in Lowtown wanted to talk. If I hadn't wasted so much time trying to track down mother's whereabouts… now I know why. Fucking Templars. They intimidated people into silence because they screwed up!"

"They didn't even tell you they had me locked up in the Gallows?" Bethany asked, outraged by the level of callousness the Templars had shown regarding mages. She was beginning to agree with Marian's view that the Templars were largely responsible for what happened to mother.

"Not at all. I looked all over. I thought the blood mage might have killed you too." Marian's voice was strained with emotion. "You'll need to leave Kirkwall. It's a matter of time before they realize you've escaped."

"They had no cause to treat me the way they did. If this is how they routinely deal with mages in Kirkwall, no wonder there are talks of rebellion." Bethany thought back to the conversation she had with Madame de Fer a while ago and shook her head in distaste. She would love to hear what the pompous court mage would say about her unlawful incarceration.

Marian's grin did not have its usual good humor. "Don't you know? The whole city is mad. The mages and the Templars are driving each other up the wall. The chantry is divorced from reality if they think sitting on the sidelines will make all the problems go away on their own. The Viscount is putting pressure _me_ of all people to get his son back from the Qun, and I've got no time for the old geezer because I've been running around like a headless chicken looking for you."

"Someone once told me this place is cursed. I'm inclined to agree." Bethany sighed, wincing from the dull ache radiating out of every bone in her body. Even now she could feel the lingering effect of the poison the Templars had mixed in her food. Cassandra was a firm believer of law and order. The Seeker would have been appalled by the Templars' shabby conducts.

"Go clean up. I'll get you something to eat." Marian forced a smile on her face. She clearly did not want to let Bethany dwell too much on the tragedy and was trying to shift the mood to a lighter tone, with mixed success. "By the way, nice trick. I've only met one other shapeshifter before, and she could turn into a dragon. Any chance Felmeth herself taught you how to do it?"

Understanding what her sister was trying to accomplish, Bethany obliged as best she could. She tilted her head and gave her sister a confused frown. "Of course not. I learnt that from her daughter. Morrigan is much nicer."

Marian barked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Her blue eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. "You're impossible."

x-x-x

When Bethany recovered enough to travel again two days later, the city was in literal flames. The fire had started at the dock, and had rapidly spread into Lowtown. Having overheard enough from Aveline and Isabela the night before, she knew immediately that the cause of the unrest must had been the qunari.

Bethany was torn. The city was under siege by heretical foreign invaders. As an agent of the chantry, she should go help repelling the attack. However, as a fugitive mage who had recently escaped the Gallows, running around while flinging fire at people seemed like an expedient way to get skewered by Templar swords.

Before she could make up her mind, the choice was taken out of her hands. From out of her bedroom windows, Bethany saw qunari soldiers streaming into Hightown, dragging nobles and wealthy merchants out of their mansions. She only spared the time to order the terrified elf servant to hide in the kitchen with the dwarves before jumping out of the windows in raven form.

As she circled the city, Bethany was able to glean a lot of information regarding the movement of the qunari invaders, as well as Kirkwall's defense (or the lack thereof). City guards had set up barricades in strategic choke points to hold off qunari attacks, but their valiant effort did little when faced with qunari Saarebas who could teleport behind the guards and blast apart the barricades with wild magic. Amidst the chaos, Bethany spotted two scores of Templars setting up a defensive perimeter around the chantry, but she didn't see them anywhere else. The majority of them must have stayed at the Gallows to prevent the more rebellious mages from escaping.

It took a little while before Bethany found her sister. Marian's group were pinned down by a dozen qunari at the east side of Lowtown. Bethany landed on a tiled roof nearby and summoned a shower of crackling lightning through those horned giants. Her ambush served as an immediate distraction that allowed her sister's friends to burst out from under cover to join in on the attack.

"Carver?" Once the dust settled, Bethany found herself face to face to her twin. She hadn't paid much attention to the armored fighters standing by Marian and her friends earlier. Now that she looked, she noticed that a good number of them were clad in Grey Warden blue.

"Hey," Carver waved at her, the smile on his face uneasy and uncertainty. They had not parted on good terms last time.

Bethany didn't care. She ran over and gave her brother a tight hug. "You're here!"

"Marian wrote. I… heard about mother." Carver pulled back to looked her in the eyes. "I thought I had lost you too."

Bethany braced for the blame that was to come, except it didn't.

"I should've been here." Carver's features twisted into an anguished grimace. "I never appreciated how lucky I was to have a family until… until it's too late. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Bethany mumbled as she tried to hold back her tears when Marian joined her siblings in grief.

For a brief moment, in the midst of the chaos, the Hawkes were able to mourn for the woman who had sacrificed so much to raise them.

The sound of someone deliberately clearing his throat broke the siblings up. A senior Grey Warden with a long bar of magnificent black mustache stood there, frowning at them with an air of quiet dignity. "Much thanks for your assistance, Miss Hawke. This attack is most unexpected. 'Though it is difficult to leave you at your hour of need, regretfully, we have pressing business elsewhere and must be on our way."

Marian signed, looking a little irritated by his reply. "There are things more important than an invasion by the qunari, Warden Stroud?"

For a moment there, Carver looked mutinous at his superior's order to pull out. But a sharp glance from Stroud was enough to quail him from voicing any protest. Bethany was amazed that her brother had learnt to follow orders since he joined the Wardens.

"Even if we want to, Grey Wardens are forbidden to be involved in political matters. We will bring words to other Free Cities. You will need reinforcement. Maker watch over you, my friend." Stroud said as he led the Wardens away.

"Please take care of my brother." Bethany called out.

Stroud gave her a brief nod but didn't linger.

"I guess it's just us now. What should we do next?" Merrill asked.

Varric shrugged, scowling at the dead bodies sprawling all over Lowtown. "No clue. But I know the next time I see Ravaini, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind."

"We should head to the Viscount's Keep. I'll rally the guardsmen." Aveline suggested.

"I saw the qunari rounding up people in Hightown. It's odd that they are not killing everyone indiscriminately." Bethany said.

Marian rake her short hair with a hand, thinking hard. "The Arishok has planned this. He wants more than to drown the city in blood. He's probably rounding people up at the Keep. We need to stop him."

"Then let's hurry." Aveline said, her green eyes blazing with fury. Bethany could tell that this invasion must have felt like a personal affront to the guard captain's honour.

x-x-x

A/N: Hi everyone, I am going on hiatus because I'll be giving birth to my first child at the end of August (if everything goes according to plan). Taking care of a newborn and finding time to sleep will be my priority for the next year. This story is not abandoned. I'll jump back to writing when I can since I already have key scenes worked out in my head. That being said, please don't expect any regular updates for at least a year.


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